


Harry Riddle: Son of Voldemort

by Madriddler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, Harry Loves Chocolate, Harry Potter was Raised by Voldemort, Harry loves his Daddy, Love Triangle, M/M, Sexual inuendos, Voldemort is Harry's Daddy, Voldemort learns to love, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 71,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: Instead of trying to kill Harry on that faithful night, Lord Voldemort has decided to steal the child away and raise him as his own. With plans to turn the boy into Dumbledore's downfall, the Dark Lord soon finds out that raising Harry and not developing a bond with the boy is impossible. Especially when the boy consistently calls him Daddy, and proves to be more loyal than any Death Eater.Will Voldemort keep to his plan? Or will raising Harry awaken something in Voldemort that both he and Dumbledore thought long since dead?





	1. A Kidnapping Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short, sweet story that'll be updated weekly. There'll be plot but mostly fluff.

Harry Riddle: Son of Voldemort

Ch. 1

A Kidnapping Adoption

The hooded figure looked at the small cottage in front of him. His informant, a sniveling little man, told him that this is where the Potters hid. The man walked slowly up the stone pathway that led to the front door. His wand snaked out of his sleeve and the door burst open, flying off of its hinges.

“Lily it’s him! Take Harry and go! Run! I’ll hold him off!” the man was screaming. The hooded figure saw a glimpse of red hair running away, up the stairs with a swaddle in her arms. Ignoring her for a moment, the hooded figure turned to the man, and with an eased point of his wand a flash of bright green light shot out of it, the man falling dead.

The hooded figure made his way up the stairs. He could hear the woman hushing a crying baby in a room nearby. When he found that the room was barricade, he blasted it open like he had the front door and stepped inside.

The woman was standing in front of a crib where the child was crying. “Move aside you foolish girl,” the figure commanded.

“No,” the woman said. She was wandless, but it was obvious to the hooded figure that she will try and protect the boy. _Foolish woman._

“You do not have to die, simply move aside,” the hooded figure said again.

“I won’t!”

He was quickly losing patience with her. “Foolish woman,” he said out loud before there was another flash of light green light and the woman screamed the child’s name as she died.

He stepped over the woman’s body and peered into the crib. A handsome baby boy, a year old by the looks of it, he had striking green eyes that stared at the hooded figure as well as messy black hair. The figure pulled off his hood revealing a handsome face with brown eyes and neat hair. He looked to be around his thirties, though he was much older. “You are the one who’ll be my downfall?” Lord Voldemort sneered. “Pathetic.”

He looked at the dead woman for a moment. _Harry, she called him,_ he thought. Turning back to the child he smirked. “You will be someone’s downfall, but not mine,” he said as he picked up the child. “Harry Potter… you will be the Light’s downfall.”

Holding the child close to him, Voldemort vanished from the home. He appeared at old Riddle Manor. Carrying the child in one arm, he used his other to wave his wand around, fixing the damages that time have caused on the old manor. He needed a place to hide the child, a place where Dumbledore would never look for, a place where Voldemort can disappear from public view until the time is right. He looked down at the child and smirked again. “Let Dumbledore believe that they have won for now… for I have gained their greatest prize.”

After making sure that the child was safely away sleeping in a crib, Voldemort decided that he needed elves, servants who will do the duties of child raising that he did not care about to do. He apparated to Malfoy Manor where his closest follower, Lucius Malfoy, had a child a little older than Harry.

“My Lord,” Lucius Malfoy said, falling to his knees in shocked. “What do you honor your presences—”

“Show me the diary,” Voldemort commanded.

“Y-Yes my Lord…. If you follow me,” Lucius Malfoy stuttered as he got to his feet. He led Voldemort into a nearby hallway that led to a spacious office. The walls were stuffed with books, and Voldemort only gave a glancing look as Lucius Malfoy walked to a far off bookcase and pulled away several thick books, revealing a small ordinary black diary.

“Good,” Voldemort said. “I will be going soon, you will not hear of me for quite time, but I shall return expecting full loyalty. In the meantime… I will be taking your elves.”

“My house-elves?”

“Yes… five should do nicely,” Voldemort said. “Summon them now and hand them to me.”

“Yes my Lord,” Lucius Malfoy said. He took his cane and tapped it against the floor five times. Five loud cracks snapped through the air and five house-elves dressed in sacks with the Malfoy emblem appeared in the room. “You five will serve my Lord. You are no longer my possession, but my Lord’s.”

“Yes, sir,” the five elves squeaked. They turned to Voldemort and bowed deeply, their noses touching the floor.

Voldemort regarded them momentarily. “Go to my manor and wait,” he commanded. The elves all disappeared with the same loud crack as they appeared in the manor. There was a sound of a child crying and Lucius Malfoy looked extremely apologetic.

“M-My Lord I am sorry…” he said. “My son—he should have been sleeping.”

Voldemort ignored Lucius and turned to follow the noise. Malfoy hurried after him as the Dark Lord took quick strides out of the office, down the corridor, and into the main room. “My Lord, you do not need to worry yourself—my house-elves will deal with my son,” Lucius said as he tried his best to keep up with Voldemort as ascended a grand staircase to the second floor.

The screaming was coming from Voldemort’s left, he followed it down a corridor to an opened-door room. It was a child’s room with a bookcase filled with books and toys, and a changing station that had wipes and diapers. The crying child was in a crib made of a dark wood. Voldemort looked into the crib to see a rather big child with blond hair and silver eyes. Voldemort moved away from the crying child then looked around the room.

“My Lord… the house-elves will take care of him,” Malfoy huffed, but Voldemort quickly filtered out his voice. The Dark Lord continued to look around the room, noting the stuffed animals and play-toys littering the floor. “My Lord!”

Voldemort snapped his fingers and one of the five house-elves appeared. “Copy this room, I require the nursery to be furnished exactly like this,” the Dark Lord commanded.

“Yes, Master,” the elf bowed before vanishing again.

Voldemort turned to Lucius and walked past him, leaving the room. Lucius followed Voldemort down into the manor’s foyer, trying to get the man’s attention but Voldemort acted like he could not hear him. Instead he walked out of the manor, and disappeared into the air.

 

It took the house elves two weeks to furnish Harry’s room and during that time the Wizarding World celebrated Voldemort’s defeat. The Dark Lord hear news and read on the Daily Prophet of how Britain believes Voldemort to be dead, and began calling Harry “The Boy Who Lived” due to a statement given by Dumbledore, who claims to have hidden the boy somewhere safe. The Dark Lord has also read, to little personal lost, that his informant was killed by Harry’s godfather Sirius Black, who is now serving a sentence in Azkaban.

Crying filled the room and Voldemort sighed as he placed down his newspaper. “Harry Riddle… why are you crying?” The child was playing with a doll, whose head somehow got torn off. Voldemort gave an annoyed sigh and waved his wand, the head of the doll sewing itself back on.

Harry looked over at the large man sitting on the seat and smiled, “Daddy,” he said.

“Yes, yes,” Voldemort muttered, returning to his newspaper. He felt a tug at his robes and looked down to see Harry standing in front of him, looking up at the man. “What?”

Harry looked at him, his little finger pointing to the wand as he tried his best to enunciate. “Sn—Snnnn—snnnnnnnakke.”

“Snake?” Voldemort asked. Harry nodded and smiled. “Say it correctly, boy.”

“Sn—snake!”

“Fine,” Voldemort said, looking clearly annoyed. He waved his wand and a small snake fizzled out of his wand, flying through the air before disappearing. The child laughed and looked at Voldemort expectantly. “Snake!”

“No.”

“Snake!”

“No.”

“Snake!” Harry squeezed his fist angrily and swung it against Voldemort’s leg, punching him.

“Hey! No hitting,” Voldemort yelled out. He flicked his wand and Harry flew into the air. Voldemort moved his wand towards Harry’s room and the child floated there, landing in his crib. The boy’s screams quickly filled the house and Voldemort scowled, irritated.

“Make sure the brat does not leave his crib for the next hour,” he commanded the house-elves before waving his wand, Harry’s door shutting. Finally having comfortable silence, Voldemort relaxed in his chair and returned to his newspaper, his mind going towards Harry and his ultimate plan.

 

When Harry turned four he became extremely inquisitive. He would always look up at Voldemort, squinting, and ask “Daddy what happened to my mummy and other daddy?” or “Daddy, why can’t you let me go out and play? I saw other kids I want to play with!”

These questions annoyed Voldemort to no end, but the Dark Lord have long ago given up on pushing the questions away and instead answered them no matter if it was the fifth or tenth time Harry asked them. “Your parents are dead, I’m raising you now,” was Voldemort’s mantra whenever Harry asked about his birth parents.

“But why can’t I go outside then?” the little boy huffed. He was small for his age, and Voldemort did not like the way he always squinted at him.

“You want to know why, Harry? Look outside,” Voldemort pointed out of the window where it was storming. “The world is cruel, the world is wicked. It’s I alone whom you can trust in this whole city. I am your only friend… I who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you, Harry. How can I protect you Harry unless you stay in here? Out there they’ll use you as a tool, out there they’ll won’t see the boy past the fame. Why invite their calumny and consternation? Stay in here.”

“But what about—”

“Later. Now you need to stay with me where I can keep an eye on you Harry,” Voldemort said.

“Okay Daddy,” Harry sighed.

“Good… speaking of, why are you constantly squinting at me? It’s annoying,” The Dark Lord said.

“I…I can’t see without doing it,” Harry said, frowning.

Voldemort scoffed. “You need glasses then,” he stated. “I will find a place to go later this week.”

Fully annoyed, and not wanting to risk Harry being found by any wizard, Voldemort was thankful that he decided to glamor his body during the war, making him look complete different to his actual looks. He left the manor the next day and walked down to the village at the bottom of the hill. The muggles stared at him as Voldemort walked down the streets, dressed in a suit. It took him most of the morning to find an optometrist in a general doctors’ building. Later that afternoon Voldemort brought Harry to the doctor’s building, and after an eye exam the two learned what Voldemort expected: Harry needed glasses. The eye doctor allowed Harry to pick out what frames he wanted, the boy picking a simple black round frames. A few hours later Harry walked home with his Daddy smiling brightly as he looked around at the clear world through his new glasses. He thanked his Daddy for the glasses when they got home, hugging the man tightly.

Voldemort stared down at Harry. The young child looked up at Voldemort, his eyes dazzling. “Thank you, I can see!” he said.

“You are welcome… Harry,” Voldemort said. He petted Harry’s head awkwardly and looked around, thankful that none of the elves were there to witness the affection. Harry separated from the Dark Lord and took his hand, smiling softly. “Daddy,” he said as they continued their way home, “can I ask you something?”

“As if you asked for permission before,” the Dark Lord said. “What is it?”

“Why don’t I know your name?” Harry asked. “I only know you as Daddy. And the elves only call you ‘Master.’ So, what is your name?”

Voldemort frowned slightly. He looked down at Harry for a moment. “I will tell you when we get home,” he said.

“Fine,” Harry huffed, though Voldemort could clearly see that the child wanted to know this instance and not wait the ten minutes it will take them to walk home. The child has his arms crossed and pouted the rest of the way, glaring up impatiently at Voldemort.

The second they’ve stepped onto their properties and Harry felt the wards that Voldemort placed over their house, he turned to Voldemort and said, “Now will you tell me?”

“Impatient brat,” Voldemort sneered, annoyed.

“You told me you would tell me your name—ahh!” Voldemort lifted Harry into the air and carried him to the nearest seat where he placed the boy over his lap.

“My name, you impatient, foolish boy,” Voldemort sneered. “Is Tom”— _SMACK_ —“Marvolo”— _SMACK_ —“Riddle.” _SMACK_. “I am the Dark”— _SMACK_ —“Lord”— _SMACK_ — “Voldemort,”— _SMACK_ —"And no one talks to me in such a tone!” _SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. SMACK_.

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes as his butt felt very sore, stinging from Voldemort’s harsh smacks. He looked over his shoulder to see that his Daddy was looking furious, his fingers flexing as if readying for another spank. “I-I’m sorry Daddy,” Harry cried. “I’ll—I’ll try an’ be more patient.”

Voldemort gave Harry one final spank before sliding the boy off of his lap. “Go to your room, Harry,” he commanded.

“Yes Daddy,” Harry sniffled. He walked towards the stairway and looked back at Voldemort. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for telling me your name,” Harry said.

“You’re welcome, now go to your room,” Voldemort said. Harry nodded and slowly climbed the steps. Voldemort watched until Harry disappeared into the corridors that led to their rooms. The man gave a sigh and shook his head. Retreating to his study, the Dark Lord poured himself a glass of scotch and summoned a house-elf. “Take away Harry’s toys for half an hour and make him do some of his remaining schoolwork I’ve given him,” he ordered, and the house-elf disappeared. Alone again, Voldemort settled in a comfortable chair with a book, ignoring the couple of snakes that slithered into the room.

As he read the snakes slithered their way to their lord and hissed in his ear, telling him of the ongoing of the Wizarding World. Seven years until the boy is able to go to Hogwarts. Seven years until Dumbledore gets to see personally what the Dark Lord is doing to The Boy Who Lived. Until then Voldemort had to stay his hand, not let his anger and rage get the better of him. He was certain that he and Po—Riddle can survive together under the same roof. After all, the boy clearly loves him as his “Daddy.” They can certainly survive together for seven more years.

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch.2

Harry Riddle Learns to Hiss

When Harry was five years old he asked Voldemort an interesting question. The small boy was in Voldemort’s study, coloring on a piece of paper as Voldemort had his snakes slither around the room, hissing their secrets in Voldemort’s ears before the man gave them further instructions. Harry frowned as he tried to keep a particularly thick snake still on Voldemort’s desk so he can draw it.

“No! No! Stop moving!” Harry said angrily at the snake. He looked up at Voldemort, his eyes large and innocent. “Daddy, why can you talk to snakes, but I can’t? I want the thick one to stay still so I can finish my drawing!” He lifted his paper up to show Voldemort a childish drawing of himself sitting at his desk.

Voldemort just raised an eyebrow and looked down at the thick green snake Harry was trying to draw. _“What news do you have for me?”_ he hissed.

_“The trials against your followers are over… your most loyal now serve in Azkaban cells…”_ the snake hissed back.

“Daddy!” Harry frowned. “I want to talk to snakes, why can’t I talk to snakes!”

Voldemort gave Harry a sharp look. The boy whimpered and backed away slowly, saying in a smaller voice, “I’m sorry Daddy… I just want to tell the snake to stay still.”

The Dark Lord found himself smirking at Harry’s meekness towards him. He pushed his chair from his desk a little and gently patted his lap. Harry smiled and quickly ran over to his Daddy, climbing onto his lap and hugging his torso as Voldemort moved the chair back to it’s original position. Harry felt a comfortable wait as Voldemort stroked the top of his head and the thick snake slithered onto the boy.

“The ability to speak and understand snakes, Harry,” the Dark Lord began, “is called Parseltongue. It is a gift, my son, passed down from one of the greatest wizards who have ever lived.”

“Who is that, Daddy?” Harry asked.

“Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts,” the Dark Lord said.

“That’s the magic school that you went to right? And the one that I’m going to go once I turn eleven,” Harry said.

“That is correct, my son, and you will be sorted into Slytherin just like your father,” Voldemort said. Harry smiled and nodded eagerly. “Parseltongue is a trait passed from father to son to show our connection and heritage to Slytherin. It allows me to converse with snakes… unfortunately, however, it has a horrible reputation.”

“But why? It’s the legey—legacy of a great man right? And you speak it Daddy!” Harry said.

Voldemort gave Harry an amused smile. “Yes, it is a part of a great legacy… and I speak it, but due to the Ministry of Magic and others, parseltongue has received a reputation of being associated with what they considered ‘evil wizards.’”

“But you’re not an Evil Wizard, Daddy,” Harry said. “You’re the best person I know!” Voldemort’s amused smile widened. “There’s no way you can be a bad wizard.”

“The rest of the world disagrees,” Voldemort said. “On the night I’ve started taking care of you, Harry, is the same night that both of us disappeared from public view.”

“I know.”

“Then you know what the world knows me as,” Voldemort said.

Harry nodded, looking up at his Daddy from his lap. “You’re the Dark Lord,” he said. “But the others won’t say your name so they call you ‘You-Know-Who’ or “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. …Though I still don’t understand why,” Harry frowned. “Daddy why are people afraid to say your name?”

“I don’t know Harry, why don’t you say it?” Voldemort chuckled darkly.

“Because you’re my Daddy, so I call you ‘Daddy,’” the five-year-old said, nodding with the certainty of a logic that only five-year-olds understand.

“But you know my other names, my son, so please… say them,” Voldemort said.

“Okay… There’s the Dark Lord… that’s what your followers call you, right? And also there’s Lord Vol…Vol-de-mort…Voldeemort?”

“Voldemort,” the Dark Lord corrected.

Harry nodded, “Lord Voldemort!”

“Good,” Voldemort said, looking satisfied. “As for why people are afraid to say my name… it is because, Harry, they fear your father so much that they are afraid of even muttering my name.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Harry frowned. “Because you’re not scary.”

“I’m not?”

“No Daddy, I love you very much, how can I be afraid of you?” Harry smiled.

Voldemort chuckled, a smirk falling on his face as he continued to pet Harry’s hair. Harry hummed, content to be sitting on the Dark Lord’s lap. He watched the snakes moved around the desk for a while before looking up at Voldemort. “Is there a way to teach me parseltongue?” he asked curiously.

Voldemort looked down at Harry, still petting Harry’s hair like an owner would bet a dog or a cat. “Would you like to learn it, Harry?”

“Yes Daddy!” Harry grinned.

“Unfortunately… it is not possible to learn it,” Voldemort said. “It is a trait, a language that one is born with, not learned,” Voldemort said.

Harry frowned and looked up at Voldemort sadly. “But Daddy… I’m your son… there has to be a way for me to speak to snakes! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” Voldemort asked. He looked down at Harry. “This isn’t a small thing you are asking for Harry. It will make you closer to me… more akin to me than your birth parents.”

“I…I…” Harry looked down at his own lap, his hands curled in little fists. Voldemort waited patiently, a skill he somehow learned while raising Harry, as the tiny child struggled with the question. Harry thought about it for five minutes. While Harry was waiting, Voldemort was busy doing some paperwork, busywork to keep his mind from loosing any edge. Harry looked up at Voldemort and gave a stiff nod. “I don’t care… for my birth parents,” he said slowly. “You’re my Daddy. I love you and want to be as close to you as I can be. So please… let me speak to snakes.”

“It will be painful Harry,” Voldemort said.

“I don’t care! I want to be close to you Daddy, I love you,” again Harry turned around and hugged Voldemort, burying his head in Voldemort’s chest. Voldemort dropped his paperwork and slowly wrapped his arms around Harry. “Then we will do the ritual tonight,” he whispered. “You will become more precious to your Daddy than you already are, would you like that Harry?”

“Yes Daddy, I will,” Harry nodded. He looked up at Voldemort. “What will I be?”

“A Horcrux. A container for a piece of my soul… with it you will be closer to me than anyone has been before,” Voldemort said.

“I want to be one! Please make me one, Daddy,” Harry whimpered. Voldemort gave him a sly, cold smirk as he brushed Harry’s hair out of the way of his huge doe-like innocent eyes.

“Of course, my son… leave me to prepare for the ritual, I’ll bring you to the basement later on,” Voldemort said.

“Okay Daddy… thank you,” Harry smiled. He hugged Voldemort one last time and actually leaned up to kiss Voldemort’s cheek before sliding off, taking his drawing, and leaving the room humming happily.

Later that day Voldemort escorted Harry down to the basement, though to Harry it could easily been a dungeon. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of stone. It was one giant room with four columns the shape of snakes supporting the ceiling. It was windowless, cold, and a bit scary for the five-year-old. Harry has never been in the basement, he never wanted to, something about it just seemed… scary to him. But now he was determined to go in. After all, he has Daddy with him. He’ll be okay as long as he’s with Daddy.

In the middle of the floor there was a circle of candles as well as a few vials of potions, none of them Harry recognized. On the ground were runes that seemed strange to Harry and he looked up at Voldemort to ask about them.

“I am going to make you into a very special Horcrux Harry,” Voldemort said. “The ritual will not only allow you to speak parseltongue, but it will allow me to sense when you are in danger, so I can protect you or spirit you away if someone tries to separate us. You will be my son… and so much more.”

Harry smiled excitedly, almost radiating about the ritual. “What do I have to do?” he asked.

“Simply sit in the center of the circle first,” Voldemort said. Harry stepped over the candles and sat down on the cold stone floor, shivering slightly. Voldemort moved towards the four vitals. “The first one,” he pointed to a vial filled with a crimson liquid, “is my blood. Take that look of disgust off your face! My Horcruxes are living things, they all have my blood to sustain them. The blood will also allow the piece of my soul to stabilize more easily inside of you Harry.”

“But it’s blood!” Harry screamed, his face turned up in knots.

“Then just hold your nose,” Voldemort sneered. Harry gave Voldemort a huge grimace but nodded. “Good… next is this one…” he pointed towards a potion that looked like mud to Harry, “is designed to, again, make it easier for your body to accept my soul. It will numb it to any pain which you might suffer, which leads us to the final potion, the Draught of Living Death.” He pointed the last, clear-like liquid. “It will make you sleep through the process.”

“So drink that one last?” Harry asked.

“Precisely,” Voldemort said. “When I am done, I will have you returned to your rooms where you will sleep off the remainder of the potions and any after affects.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “And then I can talk to snakes?”

“Yes Harry, then you can talk to snakes,” Voldemort said, an amused expression on his handsome face. He handed Harry the first vial, which was his blood. Harry grimaced greatly but closed his eyes and held his nose as he brought the vial to his lips, drinking the thick coppery liquid. His stomach gargled horribly afterwards and he quickly downed the mud-looking potion before lifting the Draught of Living Death to his lips. He looked at Voldemort and gave a simple, if disgusted, smile. “I love you Daddy,” he said before taking the draught.

It worked almost instantly as the moment Harry laid fully on the ground he passed out, asleep. Voldemort couldn’t help but take a moment and admire the sight of the child. Here was a five-year-old, too young to go to Hogwarts and decades younger than his youngest follower, but yet has already shown the same amount of loyalty, if not more so. The Dark Lord flicked his wand and the boy’s shirt disappeared. He pressed his wand at the center of Harry’s chest and began muttering, dragging the wand around Harry’s body.

 

Harry woke up in his bed wearing a pair of pajamas. His head felt incredibly painful, as if it was banged against a metal plate numerous times. Groaning he sat up in his bed as he rubbed his head, only to feel something odd. There was something on his forehead. Frowning, Harry reached for his glasses before slipping out of his bed and onto wobbly legs. Almost falling twice, Harry made his way to the nearest mirror and looked at it.

He screamed.

On his forehead, which was once clear, was now a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. “Daddy! Daddy!” Harry screamed.

A second later the door slammed open, Voldemort walking in. “What is it?”

“My—my head!” Harry said, pointing to the scar.

“Yes, that,” Voldemort said as he walked towards his son. “That scar is where my piece of soul entered into you.”

“You mean… it worked?” Harry asked, looking up to the only man he had ever talked to.

“It has,” Voldemort nodded. He waved his wand and a black snake burst from the tip of it, landing in front of Harry. _“Speak,”_ Voldemort said.

_“What about?”_ the snake hissed. Harry gave a giant gasp as he looked from the snake to Voldemort. “I understood it! He said, ‘what about!’”

“Yes he did,” Voldemort chuckled. “You can speak to the snakes any other time Harry, but for now you need to sleep.”

“But why? I’ve done nothing but sleep since I drank that potion,” Harry said.

“Because it is four in the morning and I would like to be sleeping right now,” Voldemort said a little harshly. It was then that Harry noticed that the Dark Lord was in his nightgown.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Harry said awkwardly.

“It is fine… go back to bed,” Voldemort said. He tucked Harry back in, and locked the door behind him, leaving only Harry and the black snake in the room.

Harry looked over at the snake, his sight blurry because Voldemort took off his glasses, and asked, “ _So_ now what are _you going to_ do?” unconsciously slipping in and out of Parseltongue.

The blurry blob that was the snake looked towards Harry and shook its head. _“Don’t know,”_ it said. _“Wander aimlessly?”_

“How about we _talk?”_ Harry asked, again slipping in and out of Parseltongue.

_“No… you look boring to talk to. Goodbye.”_ And Harry watched the blurry snake slither away, a little twinge of sadness coursing through him as he thought of how rude the snake was before eventually going back to sleep.


	3. Harry's Lessons

Ch. 3

Harry’s Lessons

There was this fantastic tree in the backyard of Riddle Manor. It was a tall tree, a strong tree and, most importantly, a tree that seven-year-old Harry was desperate to climb. The Dark Lord has kicked him out of the manor momentarily. He had gotten mad at a house-elf ruining his favorite pair of pajama bottoms (they were extra soft and had cool animals on them) and ended up somehow making the chandelier in the dining room fall to the ground while he was yelling at the house-elf in his bedroom on the opposite side of the manor.

But the seven-year-old did not care about that as he pushed his long black hair away from his emerald green eyes and adjusted his glasses. All Harry Riddle cared about was climbing the tree and see the world around him before Daddy started his lessons. Harry licked his lips and rubbed his hands in preparation before running towards the tree, latching onto it with his hands and feet. There was a sturdy looking branch near him and Harry did his best to shimmy towards it before he could grab onto it with his hands and held onto it as he pushed himself up. The branch was sturdy enough to support Harry’s weight as he looked around for the next branch to reach. It was right on top of him, so Harry decided to jump for it. Reaching high he jumped and grabbed onto the branch. Grunting, Harry slowly pulled himself up, curling his arms around the tree branch when he could. The next branch was a little out of the way. Harry hugged the tree and did his best to get close to the branch.

But his foot slipped. And he fell.

And fell.

Then he stopped falling. He was six inches from the ground, hovering in mid-air. Harry looked up before his glasses slipped off and saw an exasperated Voldemort standing over him, his wand pointing towards the boy’s body. “Harry Riddle,” he sighed.

“Sorry Daddy,” Harry said. “I was trying to climb the tree.”

“Why?”

“I just want to see if I can see the village below,” Harry said. Voldemort flicked his wand and Harry fell to the ground. “Ow!”

“Stupid boy! Why were you trying to see the village? You know you are not allowed to go there without me,” Voldemort snarled angrily. “What were you thinking? What if someone saw you?”

“I just… I just wanted to see,” Harry said as he got to his feet. He looked up at his father and placed his hands on his hips. “And nobody will see me! Nobody ever does!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I’m seven years old and I have no friends!” Harry yelled angrily. “I don’t talk to _anybody_ but you or the elves! I don’t see people my age—even when we have to do down there you make me look at my feet!”

“What have I told you multiple times that are out there, Harry? Have I not drilled it into your head the dangers you are in—you cannot step outside the boundaries of this manor. Not until you are ready—”

“And when’s that?” Harry screamed. “When am I ready? When I’m eleven and going to Hogwarts? Or are you going to keep me from going there too and instead home school me?”

“If you keep up this attitude, yes,” Voldemort said.

“I don’t have an attitude!”

“Yes you do.”

“That’s because you won’t let me go to school!” Harry yelled. “I want to go to school, I want to be with kids my own age, Dad!”

“Kids your own age?” Voldemort repeated angrily. Harry could see his eyes flashing red, for some reason the Dark Lord always does that when he is very angry. However, he did not backdown. Instead the seven-year-old matched Voldemort’s glare.

_“Let me go to school!”_ the boy hissed angrily. The Parseltongue threw the Dark Lord off, he was not expecting the small boy to speak it so easily. He stared at the child in front of him for a moment before turning around. _“Come… it is time for your lesson Harry. I will not hear another word of you heading to a Muggle school.”_

Harry glared at Voldemort, crossing his arms angrily but he followed Voldemort inside. The two went to a small room that led from Voldemort’s personal study. Inside was a small desk that Harry sat at, along with a low bookcase under a window filled with textbooks on multiple subjects. _“Since you seem insistent to speak Parseltongue, I will require you to speak it for the rest of the day,”_ Voldemort hissed. _“Today we will speak about Gillert Grindelwald.”_

_“The man who was Dark Lord before you,”_ Harry said.

_“Yes.”_

_“I bet his children went to an actual school,”_ Harry muttered under his breath. Voldemort glared at him and, with a jab of his wand, hexed Harry’s behind to sting harshly. “Ouch!” Harry cried out, turning a tearful glare at his father.

_“One more comment like that and you will go to your room without dinner,”_ Voldemort warned. Harry stayed quiet, so Voldemort continued. _“When was Grindelwald born? Do you remember?”_

Harry thought for a moment before frowning, shaking his head. Voldemort gave him a disappointed look. _“You will have to know our history, Harry, if you are going to become a great Dark Wizard like your father. Grindelwald is the latest of a series of Dark Wizards. The old man still lives, locked away in Nurmengard. His goal was simple: To break the International Statute of Secrecy and create a hierarchal world where wise witches and wizards rule over all.”_ Voldemort paused and waited for Harry to write it down in his notebook.

The child stopped and looked up at Voldemort. _“Daddy… I have a question. You want me to be a great Dark Wizard but… how am I going to do that if the only person I talk to is you? Shouldn’t I interact with muggle kids? That way I know how to rule them?”_

Voldemort’s angry gaze returned. Harry didn’t flinch, he just continued to stare at Voldemort. _“There is a good reason why that will never happen, Harry.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“What is your reason for never letting me near Muggles?”_ Harry asked.

_“You want to know?”_ Voldemort said, his eyes sharp as he glared down at Harry. The young boy nodded. _“Fine. But before… tell me how Grindelwald was defeated.”_

Harry answered right away. _“Dumbledore! He and Dumbledore dueled at Nurmengard where Dumbledore bested and imprisoned him. Now tell me your reason for not letting me near Muggles!”_

Voldemort gave Harry’s butt another stinging jinx for his attitude, but answered. _“I grew up in a Muggle orphanage. The children were not like myself, obviously, they isolated me and I myself. I will admit that I’ve bullied some of them,”—_ Harry gasped— _“I lived in that orphanage until I finished Hogwarts. I was forced time and time again to return to the hideous Muggle world after having my eyes opened to the wonders of magic. Muggles are not worth it Harry, they are cruel and will bring out all of your imperfections and flaws to light. I will not allow you to go through what I was forced to suffer through. That, Harry, is why you will remain here, with me, until you receive your Hogwarts letter.”_

Harry frowned. Voldemort’s voice made it sound final, as if the door was closed forever, but Harry was persistent. He looked up at Voldemort, still frowning but with a determined glare in his emerald eyes.

_“I can deal with that,”_ he said. _“You want me to learn but how can I learn the most I can learn locked in here? I promise I won’t make friends Daddy, I just want to be around other people. Be near kids my age… see how they act and talk. I’ll learn more than you can teach me… and it’s only for five or so years Daddy until I get into Hogwarts.”_

Voldemort just stared at the child.

_“And I will come home straight away after school,”_ Harry continued. _“The snakes can watch me if you’re too afraid of walking me everywhere.”_ Voldemort glared at the boy, his eyes growing red again.

He moved to the door and opened it. “Read the fifth chapter of the textbook and take notes,” he said angrily, waving his hand as one of the man dark arts tomes levitated to Harry’s desk. “Bring it to my desk when you are done.”

Voldemort slammed the door shut behind him and Harry heard the door locking with a loud click. Frowning heavily, Harry gave a huge sigh and turned to the textbook, mentally kicking himself. _I went too far,_ he thought to himself as he looked outside the window. With one wistful gaze, Harry turned back to the textbook in front of him and began his work. When he was done two hours later, Harry closed his notebook brought it with him to the door. He knew it would be unlocked. The boy opened the door and walked into the empty study, left his notebook on his Daddy’s desk, then returned to his rooming feeling thoroughly downtrodden.

The next two weeks were spent the same. Voldemort taught him about the Dark Arts and histories of various Dark Wizards, Harry tried to climb the tree or try to find any other way to past the time a sad look on his face. It was on Sunday when Harry’s Daddy dropped a backpack in front of the boy during lunch. Harry stared at it curiously.

“What is this for Daddy?” he asked.

“You. There is a school that is a ten-minute walk from here. You are starting tomorrow,” Voldemort said. The next second he knew, he had a seven-year-old hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, Daddy! I promise I won’t let you down!” Harry said, nuzzling his head into Voldemort’s stomach.

The Dark Lord was surprised to find himself chuckling at the small boy’s affection. “Of course, there will be rules, Harry.”

“Anything!” Harry smiled.

“First. No magic whatsoever. Not only doing magic in front of Muggles illegal, but it is a surefire way that men we do not want to find you will know where you are,” Voldemort said. “Second, you are not to make friends with _any_ of the muggle children. You are going there simply to learn, not make friends. You will have plenty of time for that in Hogwarts. Lastly, you will not speak Parseltongue there, or speak to any snakes you find. Do you understand me Harry Riddle?”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry smiled. “And I’ll come home as soon as school is done!”

“Good boy. Now, finish your lunch. The rest of the day will be spent getting ready for school,” Voldemort said. He patted Harry’s head gently. “Do not disappoint me Harry.”

I won’t. I love you Daddy,” Harry smiled.

The next day Harry grinned to himself. He was dressed in his best shirt and pants with a backpack filled with empty notebooks on his back. Voldemort was walking beside him, dressed in a black muggle suit. The school was as Voldemort said, a ten-minute walk down from their manor. Harry’s grin only grew as he saw the little kids playing in a jungle gym and chasing each other on a playground that was connected to the school. There was a Muggle woman there, who looked down at Harry.

“Hello, you must be Harry Riddle, yes?” she smiled.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.

“Speak up Harry,” the Dark Lord said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said.

“And you must be Harry’s father, correct?” the woman asked.

“I am,” Voldemort said.

“Good. Well school starts in fifteen minutes, so Harry has time to meet his classmates, all grades are currently on the playground now. And school ends at three-thirty,” the Muggle woman said. “Are you going to pick Harry up, or will I be meeting your wife?”

“I am a single parent. I will pick Harry up for the first month, but I am a busy man and Harry is a responsible child. He will walk home after the first month,” Voldemort said.

The Muggle woman frowned. “Well… you’re going to have to talk with the principal and Harry’s teacher on that, I’m the kindergarten teacher, Miss. Potts.”

“I’ve thought so,” Voldemort said. He patted Harry’s shoulder. “Go to the others now Harry, I’ll be speaking to your principal then see you at the end of the day.”

“Okay…” Harry said. He turned and gave Voldemort a final hug. “Thank you, Daddy,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Have a good day.”


	4. Harry Riddle Goes to School

Ch. 4

Harry Riddle Goes to School

Harry Riddle loved school. He loved being around kids his own age, it was very bizarre yet very exciting to be surrounded by other seven-year-olds. And they were all very different as well. There were girl seven-year-olds who wore skirts sometimes and had long hair, the boy seven-year-olds all wore shorts and t-shirts and all talked about these things called “movies” and “television.” There were fat seven-year-olds and skinny seven-year-olds; tall seven-year-olds and short seven-year-olds; redheads, brown-heads, black-heads; seven-year-olds whose skin looked like vanilla ice cream and seven-year-olds whose skin looked like expired mayonnaise. All of these seven-year-olds… and Harry was the odd man out.

He was the shortest of them all, the top of his head only going to the nose of the next shortest seven-year-old. He was also the only one who wore glasses, as well as button-down shirts and slacks every day (Daddy told him it was either the proper clothes or nothing at all since robes were out of the question). Lastly, he was the only boy with long shaggy hair that looked more like a pigeon’s coup than something that’s supposed to be on the top of a boy’s head.

Which made Harry learn something else about seven-year-olds: They are total monsters. The girls call him stuff like “cute” and “adorable,” annoying the young Riddle to no end, while the boys decided it was their mission to point out every single flaw of Harry’s there is. But seven-year-olds weren’t monsters all the time either. It was very confusing to Harry to see that people weren’t one mood or characteristic all the time.

One day during Harry’s first week at school, the class seemed to decide to interrogate him. “You live at that big house on the hill, right?” one boy asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Why haven’t you come down from it? What does your parents do?”

“Umm I live there with my Dad…”

“Where’s your mum?”

“Is she dead?”

“Why is your mum dead?”

Harry frowned and looked at the curious faces surrounding him. “My huh… my mum died when I was a baby with my dad… my Daddy adopted me and now I live with him,” he said awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot.

“So that means you’re an orphan! Is that why we didn’t see you till now?”

“You still call your dad ‘Daddy?” That’s so childish!”

“I think it’s cute! And look how small he is! Like a little kid!”

Harry glared at the girl, “Don’t call me little!” He snapped, and a freak gust of wind appeared that pushed everyone off balance. Harry fell with a yell, causing everyone to laugh at him. The bell rang and the seven-year-olds all walked inside the school, muttering to each other about that weird gust of wind. Harry got up himself and dusted his pants before going inside.

In his classroom, Harry sat in the middle. In front of him was a blond kid with curly hair whose hair seemed to stick out at odd angles, sometimes blocking Harry’s view. Whenever that happened, he would have to lean to one side or another to see what his teacher was writing. Whenever this happened, Harry learns that the kids who are mean to him can also be very nice. The boy sitting next to Harry, a boy with black hair and blue eyes named Logan, would always push his notebook to the side of his desk so Harry could see it. Logan, being one of the tall boys, could easily look over the heavyset blond curly hair that stuck out at odd places. He also always had a bag of chocolate, which was always a plus for Harry. During lunch time Logan would walk around the classroom handing out the chocolates to his friends (most of the class) and he always dropped two pieces onto Harry’s desk.

It was later that Harry learned that Logan’s dad is the owner of a sweets shop and he always gives his son a bag of candy to share with his class and teacher. Harry would have wondered why Logan would always give him two pieces of chocolates, but since lunch time was the only time Harry could eat them (Voldemort forbids sweets), he did not really care to ask.

After lunch was always recess, a concept that confused Harry at first, but he took to it immediately realizing that he can now play with other kids in the middle of the day and still call it “learning.” The other kids quickly learned that Harry Riddle has never played any normal games, being forced to live just by himself and his father, so they quickly taught him the splendors of recess games.

First was dodgeball.

Harry loved dodgeball, especially when all the kids threw the balls at him and he moved out of the way, all of the balls missing as if by magic. The boys commended Harry on hid dodging ability, but laughed cruelly when he tried to throw the ball, which missed its mark completely, or when it does find it’s target it was going at a slow speed that was easily catchable. But Harry had barely needed to worry about throwing the ball as Logan was always on his team, and Logan threw hard. Very hard. So hard that sometimes the ball wasn’t a ball at all but a streak of red buzzing in the air.

After one particularly nasty game where Logan and Harry were the only ones left on their team standing, Harry asked Logan, “How did you get so good at throwing balls?”

“Just practice,” Logan shrugged. “That and Da’s always making me an’ my brothers help ‘im with the chocolate.”

“You have brothers?” Harry asked.

“Five of them,” Logan nodded. “Da’ jokes that me mum can’t push out girls… whatever that means.” Logan shrugged. “Anyways, that was a good game Harry.” He slapped the back of Harry’s shoulders and grinned at the small boy. Harry grinned back and watched Logan move towards a group of boys Harry was quickly becoming familiar with.

Harry was about to follow them when he noticed something at the corner of his eye. Frowning, he turned and walked to the edge of the playground where a few bushes were. Squatting down to it, he said in an annoyed voice, “Come out, I saw you!”

Two small snakes slithered out and stood in front of Harry, using their back part of their bodies to push themselves up. Harry glared at them annoyed. _“What are you doing?”_ he hissed at them.

_“Watching you like Master wanted,”_ the first replied.

_“We saw everything. You’re breaking Master’s rules,”_ the second said.

Harry glared at them. “No, I’m not,” he said in English. “Go away! I don’t need you two watch me. Shoo!” He waved his hands at them and the two snakes slithered away.

“Harry! What was that?” a voice said from behind him. Harry jumped and turned to see the fat blond curly haired boy behind him. “Was that snakes—were you shooing away snakes?”

“Huh?” Harry said, jumping to his feet quickly as he did his best to think up a lie. “Because they were annoying…”

“But you weren’t scared at all?”

“Scared? No, why would I be scared?” Harry asked. The boy stared at him completely transfixed.

“Because!” he screamed, his hands shooting in the air wildly, “they’re snakes! Slimy, hissy, poisonous snakes!”

“Those two weren’t poisonous,” Harry said, “the worse they can do is bite you.”

“Still!” the boy shouted. He turned to the others and said, “Hey! Hey! Harry just shooed away snakes!”

Harry felt his ears going red with embarrassment as he ran after the boy, the rest of his class looking towards him. “What?” one of them said.

“Harry shooed away snakes! He didn’t even flinch—they were big and poisonous—”

“No they weren’t—”

“And scary—”

“They can just eat small mice—”

“And—”

“Shut up!” Logan screamed, the fat boy growing silent instantly. Logan turned to Harry and smiled, “So what happened?”

“I saw some of my snakes in a bush and I told them to go home,” Harry said simply.

“Snakes? You own snakes?” Logan asked, his eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, I do,” the small Harry nodded. “One of them is thicker than my arm and as tall as you are,” he pointed to Logan.

“And you’re not scared of them? At all?”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said.

“That’s so cool! You have to show me the snakes!” Logan grinned.

Harry’s smile faltered. “I can’t. Daddy told me I’m not allowed to bring anyone,” he lied.

“Then just bring a snake here, I want to see the biggest one you have,” Logan smiled. “I’ll give you four chocolates if you do,” he winked.

“ _Four_ chocolates?” Harry gasped, his mouth beginning to water slightly as he thought about the sweat heavenly goodness.

“Yeah,” Logan smiled.

Harry licked his lips apprehensively. Surely Lord Voldemort would not miss one snake… and Harry can always lie saying that the snake was watching him. “Well Harry? How about it?” Logan asked.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “I’ll bring the snake to school for everyone to see. Though my Daddy can’t know, or any of our teachers.”

“Of course not! They’ll tell our parents and then we won’t see the snake!” Logan cheered. He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him towards the others, so that they can all share the great news.

At the end of the day, Harry walked home with his Daddy. Harry couldn’t help but grin to himself as he kept his plan a secret to the Dark Lord. When they returned home, Harry quickly went to the small room next to Voldemort’s study and did all of his homework. Afterwards, he walked outside and smiled when he saw the thick snake waiting on the desk. _“You,”_ Harry smiled.

_“Go away child,”_ the snake hissed, looking at Harry angrily.

_“But my Daddy told me that you’re supposed to watch me tomorrow,”_ Harry smiled.

_“That so?”_ The snake asked. Harry nodded and the snake sighed. _“Fine, I will be at your school tomorrow. Now leave me alone.”_

_“What you don’t want company?”_ Harry asked, the tip of his tongue poking out in glee.

_“Hate it. Now leave.”_

Harry smiled and giggled to himself as he practically skipped out of the office, impatient for the next day where he can show off the snake.

There was a small crowd waiting for him at school. Harry quickly said his goodbyes to his father and ensured him several times that he is not making friends with any of them. He waited until Voldemort was long gone before turning to his classmates. “Come on,” he smiled and led them to the bush where Harry found the two small snakes the previous day. He smiled when he saw the huge snake sitting under the bush, obviously asleep. Harry got on all fours and leaned close to the bush, making some of the girls gasp in fear. _“Hey, hey,”_ he whispered. _“Wake up!”_

The snake blinked lazily and stared at Harry, as if silently asking “what is it now?”

Harry grinned and looked back at the students. _“Daddy told me not to make friends, right, well I want to scare them so that they’ll never talk to me again! And I need your help! Just slither around my shoulders please, and I’ll find you a nice big rat for you to eat!”_

The snake just stared at him, completely bored and uninterested, but slowly slid out of the bush and coiled itself around Harry’s arm. It was twice the thickness of Harry’s arm and very heavy for the small boy. Several more shrieks emerged from behind him as his classmates all looked at the snake that looked as if it could easily swallow any of their heads. The thick snake draped itself around Harry’s neck like a loose scarf and Harry grunted as he stood up and turned around to the crowd behind him. Several of them fainted on sight while others screamed in shock. The boys all looked at Harry dumbfounded, their mouths hung open and eyes bulging. Logan, however, smiled at Harry, the tall boy clearly impressed by his bravery.

“No, stay there… he’s a bit vicious to new people,” Harry said when Logan was about to take a step forward. The muggle listened and stood in place, looking very impressed as Harry turned back to the snake. “You can go now,” he said rather loudly and in a bossy tone.

_“Be thankful I am not hungry,”_ the snake said, looking offended and annoyed at the same time. It spiraled down Harry’s body, squeezing against his stomach and legs before flopping onto the ground, earning another shriek from the girls as it returned to the bush.

Harry turned back to Logan and smiled widely.

“Looks like I owe you four pieces of candy Harry, that was awesome,” Logan cheered just as the bell rang and the kids all ran inside the building, Logan and Harry bringing up the rear with Logan’s arm over Harry’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments makes me smile and give me motivation to give young Harry and his taller boy toys cuter moments. (Is that enough of a blatant bribe?)


	5. Harry's First Friend

Ch. 5

Harry’s First Friend

Harry had to admit that he loved being with Logan. Logan was just the best. Logan was tall. Logan was funny. Logan gave him chocolate. But Voldemort must never find out about Logan.

Harry dodged a bullet when he came home after showing off the thick snake. The snake was just annoyed at Harry but did not tell the Dark Lord the truth about what happened. Instead it just gave Harry a bored stare as the young boy went into his little office to do his homework, Lord Voldemort sitting at his desk blissfully unaware of Harry’s budding friendship with Logan.

It was nearing Halloween. Harry has never went trick or treating, he never wanted to nor would his Daddy ever allow him to in the first place. Halloween was a time for Harry to remember his mother and father, and ask Voldemort once again for details of how they died and, more importantly, who killed them. And it was a time for Voldemort to, once again, avoid Harry’s constant questioning by saying that the boy “isn’t old enough yet.”

This Halloween was the same. One of the first things Harry did when he woke up that sunny morning was asking his Daddy, “What happened to my parents? I’m seven years old, I can handle it now.”

“No, you’re too young Harry,” Voldemort said, reading the _Daily Prophet_. “I will tell you when you are older. Now eat your breakfast.” Voldemort returned his attention to the Daily Prophet and began muttering angrily about a guy named ‘Malfoy.’

Harry frowned but stayed silent as he began eating his breakfast. He was halfway done when his eyes burst open to the size of saucers and looked over at his Daddy. “Daddy! I forgot! My teacher told us that we have to come to school dressed up. And I think that it would be odd if I’m was the only one who didn’t—the kids would ask me questions but we don’t want that right—so umm… can I wear my robes to school today?”

Voldemort looked at his son over the newspaper. “Dress up?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

Voldemort gave him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed. Harry smiled innocently and asked, “Which would give me more attention, Daddy? Being a part of their crowd and dressing up… or going against the crowd and go to school in my usual clothes?”

Voldemort continued to give him an unamused gaze but relented. “Fine,” he said. “You may wear one of your robes to school.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” Harry cheered. He slipped out of his chair and ran around to give the Dark Lord a hug, kissing his cheek. Voldemort just scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. He have thought multiple times to read the boy’s mind, to be even more stricter than he already was, but the boy’s thoughts should be his own, the Dark Lord figured. It would be a greater loss to Dumbledore, in Voldemort’s mind, if Harry absolutely loves him, and comes to that love by his own fruition. Voldemort reading and changing Harry’s mind to match his will would only lessen the feeling of satisfaction he will feel when Harry turns eleven.

So he allowed Harry to wear his robe to school. It was a simple black robe with a stitching of a badge shaped like a snake that Voldemort had the elves sew on. Harry had to hide his grin until his father was gone before he went running off to show off his robe to Logan and the others (Harry tried remembering their names but for some strange reason he could only remember Logan’s). The others, Harry quickly noticed, was not dressed up as ghouls and goblins as he had expected. Instead they were dressed up as wear mechanical beings, one with white visors, some were black beings holding plastic red poles that lit up while others dressed in white with blue or green.

Logan was wearing a black leather coat and pants with black sunglasses and a white shirt underneath. “Harry!” He smiled, “Look at me!” He posed in the clothing and smiled. “I wanted to not wear a shirt, but my mum forced me to. What are you?”

“I’m a wizard,” Harry said. “What are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m Arnold!” Logan exclaimed, his hand rummaging into his pocket. “Don’t tell the teacher but look! I even got a plastic gun and everything!” He pulled out a toy gun and wiggled his eyebrows before putting it back into his pocket. Harry looked at Logan confused but shrugged, thinking it better to not ask Logan to explain. They went inside their school to see that their teacher have dressed as a stereotypical witch. She was wearing a cheap looking robe and pointy hat, as well carrying around a crooked broom. “Welcome my children!” she crackled as the class of seven-year-olds walked in. Harry couldn’t help but cringe at her act.

During recess Harry played with Logan and the other boys, this time the boys decided to introduce Harry to a game called kickball. Harry didn’t like it.

“Harry, are you going trick-or-treating tonight?” Logan asked near the end of recess.

“Trick-or-treating?” Harry asked confused.

Logan’s eyes widened dramatically. “You mean you don’t know about trick-or-treating? Harry! Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Umm…” Harry felt suddenly embarrassed and began shuffling on his feet. “Daddy doesn’t allow me to go out except for school.”

“Wow… your dad’s strict,” Logan whistled.

Harry nodded. “He is,” Harry said. “But he has his reasons. I had to fight to get him to let me go here.”

“Wow, well lucky me then,” Logan smiled as he pulled out a piece of chocolate and handed it to Harry. “If you didn’t argue we wouldn’t have met, would we?”

“No… no I don’t think we would have,” Harry said, taking the chocolate and unwrapping it. “I think Daddy would have kept me home-schooled until I turn eleven.”

“Why eleven?”

“Because then I’m going to Ho—a special school,” Harry said.

“You’re not going to go to the secondary school here?” Logan gasped.

Harry shook his head, “No I’m not… but I promise that we can write to each other and still see each other during the summer!” he said quickly. Logan looked a little downtrodden, so Harry did his best to curl his arm around Logan’s neck. “Don’t be sad,” he commanded. “We still got a few years together, yeah?”

“I guess so…”

“So during those years… you have to give me enough chocolate to last us a lifetime,” Harry said.

Logan chuckled. “You really like chocolate, don’t you?”

“I love it!” Harry grinned. “You’re the only time I can eat it.”

“Really?” Logan smirked. “Then I’ll make sure to keep you full of it.” The school bell rang and Logan shrugged Harry’s arm off so he could put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Well, come on Harry, our witchy teacher awaits.”

“She’s not even a good witch,” Harry said. “Witches don’t even dress like that!” Realizing what he said, Harry smacked his hands on his lips and hoped that Logan didn’t noticed. He guessed that since the boy just laughed, he was fine. The two friends went back into the school, ignorant to the snake slithering away from the playground.

 

Voldemort was waiting for Harry to come home. His wand held tightly in his hand. The boy walked in smiling, humming softly as he closed the door. “Good day at school, boy?”

“Yes Daddy,” Harry said.

“I see… go to my room,” Voldemort commanded. Harry’s face paled dramatically.

“Da—”

“Go to my room,” Voldemort repeated. “Or else I’ll simply make you.” He flicked his wand and Harry found himself skidding across the floor towards the stairs, falling right in front of it. Harry sniffled and scrambled up the stairs in a panic, Voldemort following him. Harry looked over his shoulder, but any words he was about to say were quickly swallowed when he saw that Lord Voldemort was glaring at him with angry red eyes.

The master bedroom was sparse. There was only a king-size four-poster bed along with a wardrobe with a mirror inside. Harry’s frame visibly trembled as he stepped inside. The only times he walked into Voldemort’s room was to receive a punishment. As soon as he stepped inside, he felt himself flung into the air, forced to be bent over as Voldemort closed the door.

“Daddy… please,” Harry croaked. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You didn’t have you?” Voldemort smirked sadistically. “So the information I’ve obtained about you befriending a muggle boy was wrong, was it? My spies lying to me?”

“Please—I—”

“You broke my single condition Harry,” Voldemort said angrily. “I told you Harry _not_ to befriend the muggle filth. You promised, Harry, you said so yourself that you will not befriend any muggles. And yet… you have done exactly that, Harry Riddle. You have befriended a boy… Logan Gilly, if I am not mistaken.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he quickly shook his head. “No, Daddy no please—please don’t—”

“Do not tell me what I can or can’t do boy!” Voldemort yelled and Harry felt a shock of pain course through his body that left him shaking. “I should go to their house, kill every single one of their filth and lock you in your room for what you’ve done, Harry!”

“Daddy don’t, please no,” Harry cried.

“Don’t?” Voldemort laughed. “Don’t? You still tell me what to do, you idiot child?” Pain flooded Harry’s body again. He found his body moving towards Voldemort as the man sat down. Harry felt a wide, large hand on his butt and trembled slightly. “I believe one hundred will be a start,” Voldemort said. “For your disrespect towards me.” The room snapped with Voldemort’s first spank, hitting Harry’s clothed butt hard. Harry whimpered with each spank, tears starting to well in his eyes as Voldemort continued, making his son count out loud each spank. When they reached thirty the first tear fell and something inside Harry started to flicker inside him. It was like a weak match fighting for its survival against each and every spank Voldemort gave Harry. At forty the flickering match died out as Harry’s entire butt felt like a numbing sting that never lost its sensitivity to pain as Voldemort waved his wand over it every now and again.

Finally, when Harry said “One hundred” Voldemort stopped and looked at his son. Harry’s face was raw with tears, his eyes and cheeks puffed and his butt a vivid red under his clothes. “Why did you befriend the muggle?” Voldemort asked.

“I just did,” Harry said in a monotonic voice. “I like Logan. He’s nice to me, teaches me things.”

“And I don’t do that?” Voldemort asked. “I do not teach you the history of the great Dark Wizards before us? Did I not teach you how to brew a simple potion? Or take care of various breeds of snakes?”

“You did… but Logan taught me more,” Harry said. The match light inside him again, and with no spanking to snuff it out, the spark slowly began to grow. “Logan taught me how to play; he gave me chocolate during lunch—more than the other kids—and he is always nice to me showing me things that I didn’t even know exist. I like Logan. He is my friend. He will always be my friend!”

“Always?” Voldemort repeated slowly. “And what if he forgets about you, Harry?”

“Then I will still be his friend,” Harry said angrily. He looked over his shoulder to meet Voldemort’s eyes. _“If you make Logan forget about me—if you hurt his family, I will hate you forever. If you care for me like your son, if you love me like your son, you will allow me to keep Logan. If not… lock me in my room and I will hate you forever.”_

Voldemort smirked. “Friendships come and go, Harry. They are fragile things.”

_“If you love me,”_ Harry repeated again. _“You will let me keep Logan.”_

The nearby wardrobe began to shake. Voldemort turned an expressionless face towards it and watched as the doors burst open, Voldemort’s suits and robes flinging out of the wardrobe as if shot from a slingshot, scattering all around, some of Voldemort’s more frequent clothing looking scorched. Voldemort looked back at Harry. “One hundred more, for causing this mess,” Voldemort said calmly.

Harry did not cry as he counted, he kept his voice monotonic, flat, as the hating flame inside him grew. His body jerked with each slap, Voldemort was spanking him harder than he had ever spanked the boy before. There were times when Voldemort had to readjust Harry on his leg before continuing his spanking. When he was done, Voldemort paused, his hand resting on Harry’s back. “Well, boy?” he asked.

“If you love me, you’ll let me keep Logan,” Harry repeated in the same flat voice. Voldemort continued his assault on Harry’s butt until Harry had a total of three hundred spanks. His butt was hurting painfully. He could barely stand when the Dark Lord told him to slip off of his lap. Harry did so and went to his room silently.

“You will do your homework after dinner, then it is straight to bed,” Voldemort said. Harry just gave him a flat, dead-like look before the Dark Lord closed the door, locking it.

Harry walked over to his full-length mirror and pushed down his pants, angling his body so he could look at his butt. It was red. Redder than red crayons his teacher sometimes let them use in their diagrams. His butt was a solid, painful red, and as Harry looked at his butt, the more determined he was to keep Logan as his friend. He did not come down for dinner, he just sat at his desk when the elves summoned him and ordered them to leave him alone.

His backpack appeared next to him with an elf, whose hands were now heavily bandaged. Harry ignored it and just angrily did his homework before falling asleep. He did not talk to Voldemort the next morning. Harry just ate his breakfast in silence before leaving home early.

“Harry,” Voldemort’s harsh voice reached Harry’s ear. Harry turned to stare angrily at his father. Voldemort had his arms crossed, a curious expression on his handsome face. “Tell the boy you are a wizard,” Voldemort said. “Then you will see what I am right.”

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. “And if I’m right?”

“Then… I will consider allowing him to be your friend,” Voldemort said. “Now leave before I change my mind.” He was expecting a “Thank you Daddy” from Harry, but it never came. Instead the boy just turned and left on his way to school leaving the Dark Lord feeling oddly sadden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering, Chapter 7 is when Harry goes to Hogwarts (yes I am writing this two chapters in advance.)


	6. Logan Meets the Dark Lord

Ch. 6

Logan Meets the Dark Lord

“I’m a wizard, I can do magic,” Harry said.

He and Logan were behind the schoolyard. It was after school, and Harry was determined to prove his Daddy wrong. Logan stared at him confused, as if waiting for a punchline or for Harry to say anything else. Harry saw the confusion and began to panic. “You don’t believe me!” He said.

“Believe you? You’re joking right?” Logan laughed. “Though honestly Harry, it was a very bad joke. No set up or anything.”

“But I can do magic! How do you think I can talk to snakes? Or—or why do you think none of the balls hit me when we play dodgeball?” Harry asked.

“Because you’re fast and grew up with snakes…” Logan said. Harry gave a groan of frustration and looked around.

“Watch this!”

“Harry, my parents are expecting home soon…”

“I know! I just need to show you one thing though,” Harry said. He picked up a rock and smiled at Logan. “Look, I can turn this rock into anything! Like a ball!” He stared at the rock and groaned loudly as he concentrated all of his effort at the small stone.

Logan just stared at Harry weirdly, looking slightly freaked out. “I have to go…”

“No wait! Turn into a ball! Ahh!” Harry felt a hot blast of heat erupt inside him and he screamed in shock as the stone in his hand, instead of turning into a ball, turned into what looked like a mushy glop of beans. “Eww… that’s not what I wanted,” Harry groaned, and he shook his hand clean, the messy glop flinging everywhere.

Logan jumped back in fright and stared at the small adorable kid in front of him. “You—that—you…. That was…”

“It was supposed to turn into a ball not mashed beans,” Harry frowned. “Maybe if I had Daddy’s wand it might have worked a little better… but see? I wasn’t lying!” Harry grinned.

Logan looked pale. He took a step back and stumbled a little. “Logan? What’s wrong?” Harry asked. He took a step forward and Logan took another step back, falling to the ground. “Logan!” Harry ran to his friend and bent down. “Logan! Are you okay?”

“You turned… you did magic,” Logan said.

“Yeah, I did.”

“But there’s no such thing as magic,” Logan said.

Harry smiled ruefully and shook his head, “There’s so too a thing as magic,” he giggled. “Didn’t you see me turn that stone into yucky beans?”

“But… but…”

“That’s why I can’t go to secondary school here when I turn eleven,” Harry said softly. “I have to go to a special school where I learn all sorts of magic.”

“You mean…” Logan said slowly, his voice uncharacteristically high and screechy, “there’s _more_ you can do?”

“Yeah, lots more,” Harry smiled. “Though I can’t really control it now… like I said, I need to go to school for that.”

“Where is it? Can I come?” Logan asked. Harry frowned a little.

“No… you can’t,” Harry said.

“Why not?” Logan pouted, quickly regaining his normal voice and charisma. “I bet I can learn magic too, just you wait.”

“You’re a muggle…” Harry frowned. “You can’t do it, it’s impossible.”

“What do you mean it’s impossible?” Logan asked, looking suddenly offended.

“Because you’re a muggle! A non-magic person,” Harry said. “You can’t do magic—I’m not even supposed to be telling you about this stuff anyway!”

“Why not?”

“Because… because… because there are laws that I don’t understand, and Daddy told me not to even tell you about this,” Harry said.

“What?”

“Yeah… I might be in very big trouble, especially when he learns that he was wrong,” Harry said, giving an awkwardly shy smile. Logan continued to stare at Harry. Harry bit the insides of his cheek and did his best to turn his awkward smile into a cute one. “So… Logan… are we still friends?”

“Still friends… of course we are!” Logan said. “I mean yeah, you’re now the weirdest person I know but still—you can do _magic!_ You can set people on fire if you don’t like them—”

“Actually, Daddy told me that we can’t do magic in front of Muggles,” Harry said. “Bad things happen when we do.”

“Like what?”

“Witch trials,” Harry shrugged.

Logan’s eyes went wide and he took a deep breath, raking his hands through his hair. “I’m dreaming… must be dreaming…” Harry pinched him. “Ow! What’s that for?” he demanded.

“To show you that you aren’t dreaming,” Harry said.

“Okay… okay… so this is real… you… you actually did turn a rock into mush and magic is real…” Logan took a breath. “Harry… you sure I’m not dreaming?”

“I’m sure,” Harry smiled.

“Okay…” Logan said slowly. “Then… there really is a giant snake making it’s way towards us,” he pointed behind Harry.

Harry turned to see the thick snake slithering towards them, hissing very annoyed. Harry smiled. _“I’m on my way, don’t worry.”_

_“I can be doing so many useful things, boy,”_ the snake hissed annoyingly. _“There is this manor that I could be watching with a proper wizard boy who doesn’t want to even meet muggles. They had the most delible rats… and rabbits.”_

_“Eww gross don’t eat rabbits,”_ Harry frowned. He turned to Logan, “Did you hear that? He says he eats rabbits!”

“Yeah… gross… you really understand what it’s hissing?” Logan asked. “That another spell?”

“No, family thing,” Harry smiled.

_“Why do you continue to talk with that muggle? They are so boring.”_

_“Because Logan is my friend,”_ Harry told the snake, pouting. _“And I don’t like you making fun of him!”_

_“Like I care… just leave so I can go back to doing something useful,”_ the thick snake sighed, and it turned to slither away.

“Really, how rude,” Harry said, placing his hands on his hips. He turned to Logan and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry… Daddy sends snakes to watch me during school… they all hate it. This one especially.”

“I see…” Logan said, nodding very slowly. “And I guess that the snake has a name?”

“I don’t know, I just refer to them as they are,” Harry shrugged. He gasped and smiled at Logan. “You should come over! During the weekend, that way Daddy can meet you and he’ll see that there is no reason for him to send the snakes to look after me! Everyone’ll be happy!”

“I guess… I’ll have to ask my folks first…”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll ask them with you, come on!” Harry grabbed Logan’s hand and dragged him to the front of the school where a small crowd of parents were waiting. Harry usually never went near them, they were in the opposite direction of Riddle Manor and Harry just focused on walking home after school.

“Logan, there you are! Get over here!” A heavyset man said. He had the same color of hair as Logan, though Harry saw that he was missing the top part of it. He had a cheery face, Harry supposed, but it pales in comparison to Daddy’s. “Who’s this?”

“Da’, this is my friend Harry, Harry Riddle,” Logan said.

“Short.”

“Yeah, well he invited me to spend the day at his house tomorrow,” Logan said.

“I see… where do you live? And where’s your parents?” the heavyset man asked.

“I live other there, at the big house on top of the hill,” Harry said, pointing towards Riddle Manor. “And I walk home alone.”

“Riddle Manor, eh? Should’ve guess…” the man grunted. “Ain’t that place haunted or something? Bad things happened there.”

“Really? Like what?” Harry asked.

“The previous owners died there… what was it, forty so years ago,” the man said. “Been empty till you showed up. Murdered they were, yeah. Parents and their son, shame really. Anyway yeah, if a small thing like you think it’s a fine place, sure.”

“You mean Logan can come tomorrow?”

“Yes, he’ll be around ten. Now move on boy! We’re late,” the man grumbled and turned to his car. Logan smiled and waved goodbye to Harry, the small boy already running back home to tell Daddy the good news.

Voldemort was waiting for him in his study as usual, the thick snake resting lazily on his desk as one of the smaller snakes whispered in his ear. “Daddy! Daddy!” Harry smiled as he ran into the office, stopping abruptly as Voldemort glared at him.

Harry shuffled awkwardly on his feet and looked to the ground as Voldemort returned to his business. The handsome man whispered to the snake on his shoulder for some time before it slithered away. Voldemort waited until the snake was fully gone before turning to his son. “What is it, my child?” he asked.

“I told Logan that I’m a wizard,” Harry said.

“And, as I have warned you, he rejected you just as the muggle world would reject our kind,” Voldemort interrupted. “No need to be so heartbroken my son, come, sit on my lap—”

“He loves that I can do magic,” Harry said, crossing his arms and pouting at Voldemort. The man stared at his son, shocked. “He thinks it’s awesome that I’m a wizard and… and he’s coming over during the weekend.”

“I see…” Voldemort said shortly. “So… this boy accepts you, does he?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“He believes that your gift is… spectacular?” Voldemort asked, his voice curt. Harry nodded again, though his smile faltered slightly. “Harry, Harry, my innocent child, come here,” Voldemort sighed, patting his lap.

Harry walked to his father and climbed on his lap. Voldemort, showing a rare sign of affection, hugged Harry close to him. “Harry, you are too innocent to know the way of the world,” he began. “This boy will lead to nothing but heartbreak and disappointment. He is a muggle, and Muggles will never understand the way of our world. Besides Harry, you will be leaving him when you turn eleven to go to Hogwarts. It would be best to cut all ties and forget about these muggles.”

“You’re wrong Daddy,” Harry said. “Logan and I will be friends forever. He is the most important person in my life! Not counting you. When I go to Hogwarts I’ll write letters to him every week so we don’t forget each other.”

“I see… in that case, I will say nothing,” Voldemort said, though there was clear disappointment in his eyes. “But when the day comes that he breaks you, I will be here waiting to help.”

“Thank you, Daddy, but Logan will never break me,” Harry smiled. “But he is come here during the weekend.”

“In that case, I will behave for you,” Voldemort said. Harry hugged his Daddy and kissed his cheek. “Now be a good boy and go do your homework. I’ve left a tome on your desk, I want you to read the first chapter.”

“Okay Daddy… I love you,” Harry said.

“Good, now go on. I’m busy here,” Voldemort said. The seven-year-old slipped off his lap and ran to his small study next to Voldemort’s, closing the door behind him. The Dark Lord sighed and shook his head. Looking at the thick snake he said, _“My son is powerful, very powerful. He is filled with magic yet he is too trustworthy, too innocent.”_

_“And too annoying,”_ the thick snaked yawned. _“I cannot believe the brat tricked me to follow his commands in front of those nasty muggles. Told me he was going to scare them when he was just befriending that Logan muggle. Disgusting… how dare he uses me.”_

The Dark Lord couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, a smirk playing his lips. Though he won’t admit it, he was a little proud of Harry tricking the thick snake and making it do as he commands. It’s odd, being a father to the child you once tried to kill. But Voldemort would not want anything different. Harry proved his loyalty and love every moment that he can; every show of magic or Parseltongue gave Voldemort a swell of pride, even if his antics sometimes destroyed the furniture. Though there was his trusting problem. Voldemort cannot figure out how it happened but his son is just too trusting, too friendly, to be the son of the Dark Lord. He had even managed to befriend a muggle, tell him about his magic, and make the Dark Lord agree to having the muggle in the same house as he!

Voldemort sighed. Though the child did not know it, he was just as manipulative as his father. Looking at the door that led to Harry’s small study Voldemort said, “My son, keep that cuteness of yours, it will serve you just as my handsomeness served me… though I fear you’ll be much more effective.”

 

Harry was vibrating with happiness the next day. Logan was coming! Logan was going to be here! At home! Where they can play with Harry’s toys and Harry could show him all the magic he knows! The small boy stayed up late till ten o’clock reading up on spells he can use to impress his best friend.

At ten thirty there was a knock at the door. Harry bolted towards it, and opened the door smiling. “Logan! Hi!” he said. Logan smiled and waved, his father standing behind him.

“This’s fancy… where’s your father?” the heavyset man said.

“The father… is here,” Voldemort’s cold voice said as he walked up from behind Harry, wearing a suit and tie. He placed one hand on Harry’s shoulder while he eyed both father and son standing before him.

Logan was a handsome, tall boy with the begging of muscles starting to develop on his arms. While his father had thick muscular arms, but also a wide stomach. The Dark Lord saw immediately why his son would gravitate towards the Muggle boy, but the father was, in the Dark Lord’s mind, disgusting. “Harry, why don’t you show Logan around? And feed the snakes,” Voldemort said.

Harry nodded and grabbed Logan’s hand, “Come on!” he cheered, pulling the boy inside. Voldemort watched as his son disappeared with Logan into one of the rooms and turned to the heavyset man. “So uhh… what exactly you do here, Mr. Riddle?” the man asked.

“I live here.”

“Yeah well, what I meant was uh—”

“My profession is none of your business,” Voldemort said. Their eyes met and Voldemort immediately entered the Muggle’s mind, relieved to see that Logan did not tell the man about magic. Though there was a lot of chocolate… and swearing. “Now, Mr. McMann, I am sure a man in your… business must be awfully busy. I will return your son when the day is done. Goodbye.” The door closed by itself and Voldemort turned to follow his son and visitor.

He found them in the backroom, Harry showing off a house-elf. Logan stared, awfully impressed at the strange creature until the Dark Lord cleared his throat. The elf panicked and bowed swiftly. “This one is sorry Master—Master Harry wanted this one to—”

“It does not matter, go back to your chores,” Voldemort said dismissively. The elf nodded, quivering slightly, and disappeared with a loud crack that made the muggle jump. “Logan McMann,” Voldemort said.

“Yes sir,” Logan said, turning him. “Thank you for letting me stay the day with Harry, and I want you to know that your secret is safe—”

“I don’t care,” Voldemort interrupted. “As long as you are here, let me establish some rules. First, and most importantly, Harry is my son. If any harm comes to him, any at all, you will hold responsibility.”

“Don’t worry, no harm will to Harry while I’m around,” Logan said, wrapping a friendly arm around Harry’s neck that made the Dark Lord give him a dirty look.

“I will remember that. Secondly, as you are aware, Harry and myself are wizards. As such there are several artifacts around here that, while Harry can safely operate and touch… you will not even go near them.”

“But Daddy!” Harry whined. “I wanted to show him those!”

“No,” Voldemort stated simply. Harry pouted but said nothing. Logan nudged Harry and winked, which caused the small child to smile.

“You are not to disturb the house-elves, doing so will cause ceaseless annoyances with them committing self-harm,” Voldemort continued. “You will not touch any snakes going to my study, nor will you go near any of them. They are all poisonous and can kill in an instant.”

“But not while you’re around me,” Harry smiled. “They all love me… except for the thick snake.”

“You something about thick snakes Harry?” Logan snickered, which caused Voldemort to frown deeply.

“Lastly, though you are only seven, Mr. McMann, I know for a fact that you live with several much older brothers, the oldest of which is in his late teens. My son is innocent, and shall remain that way. Understand?”

“Yes sir… sorry sir,” Logan said.

“Good. That is all,” the Dark Lord said and his disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, shocking the small muggle.

“Dude… your dad just disappeared,” Logan said, his eyes wide turning to his friend. Harry shrugged, “He likes doing that when he wants to be dramatic… or he’s late.”

The small boy frowned and looked up at his big friend. “What did he mean by keeping me innocent, Logan?”

“Oh that well…” Logan began awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “There are… things my brothers told me about… things that older guys do to girls or people they really like.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Oh well you know…. Kiss and uh—”

“I kiss Daddy all the time on the cheek, like that?” Harry asked, cocking his head sideways.

“Umm… no,” Logan said, looking strangely at Harry. “Man, you really _are_ innocent, aren’t you?”

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry pouted.

“No, no, no… I think it’s cute actually,” Logan smirked. “In fact… I have some treats for an innocent boy like you.” He dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out four pieces of chocolate. Harry’s eyes widened at the sight and he licked his lips as he looked up at Logan. “For me?”

“Of course, Harry, eat up,” Logan laughed, and Harry did, gobbling the chocolate up in less than a minute. Logan laughed and slapped Harry’s back. “So, how about doing some magic?”

“Yeah!” Harry said. “I need a wand to do most of it, but I can do some now I think.” The two ran outside and Harry looked around. “So, what do you want to see? I’m sure I can make fire! Maybe…”

“Fire? I’d love to see that,” Logan smirked. Harry nodded and looked around. He pointed his finger high in the air, away from them and cleared his throat before screaming, _“Incendio!”_

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned. “ _Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!_ Why isn’t it working?” Harry stomped the ground angrily. Pointing his finger one last time, Harry screamed out at the top of his lungs, “ _INCENDIO!_ ” Fire burst from his finger and danced in the air, scaring both boys as they fell to the ground. The fire disappeared, and Harry turned to Logan sheepishly. “This is why I need to go to school… so I can learn to do it properly.”

“That was… amazing!” Logan said, his body shaking. “Harry! That was totally awesome, way better than turning that rock into mush! You created _fire_ out of nothing!”

“Yeah, I did,” Harry smiled. The two got up and Harry spent most of the morning showing off the magic that he can do. He loved showing off to Logan, having the older boy’s approval whenever he did something cool or magical. He summoned water, he turned a rock into a button, he even made that rock float when it turned back!

Harry wished he could be with Logan forever, but unfortunately the day went by far too quickly. Logan’s father returned around four to pick him up, refusing to step onto the Riddle grounds and instead honked his car’s horn obnoxiously. Harry walked him out.

“I had a lot of fun today Logan,” he smiled.

“Me too, we definitely have to hang out more after school,” Logan smirked. Harry nodded and did something that surprised both of them. He kissed Logan’s cheek.

“Bye!” he waved before running back into the manor, leaving the Muggle stunned. Logan stood there for a moment, confused, touching his cheek. His father’s horn broke his stupor, and he left Riddle Manor.

Harry meanwhile stared at his feet as he tried to understand why he did what he did. Deciding he needed help, he went into his father’s study to see the Dark Lord writing something. “Daddy…”

“Is that annoying muggle gone?” Voldemort asked. Harry knew he was referring to Logan’s dad.

“Yes Daddy.”

“Good. That blasted car was giving me a headache. Go into your study, I’ve found a book about Morgan Le Fay I want you to read—what’s the matter?” Voldemort looked up to see Harry hesitating.

“Daddy,” Harry said for a third time. “I did something… but I don’t know why.”

“What was it?”

Harry looked up at Voldemort and took a breath. “I kissed Logan’s cheek.”

“I see,” Voldemort said. “Think nothing of it.”

“But Daddy—”

“A kiss on the cheek means nothing, Harry,” Voldemort said. “You are too young to begin tackling the feelings that comes with kisses.”

“And what feelings are those?” Harry asked.

“Love,” Voldemort sneered. “A connection between two people who are not related.”

“But I love you, Daddy,” Harry said.

“That is a different type of love,” Voldemort said. “This is a love boringly between a boy and a girl.”

“Have you ever been in love before, Daddy?” Harry asked, frowning slightly at the “boy and girl” part.

“No,” Voldemort said bluntly. “It is a waste of time. Now go do your reading, Harry.”

Harry nodded and frowned. “Is that why you won’t tell me ‘I love you?’”

Voldemort stood up. “You know how I feel about you Harry,” he said. “You are the most important thing in the world for me.”

“I know,” Harry sighed. He hugged Voldemort and looked up. “Does my kiss really mean nothing Daddy? I like Logan a lot.”

“I’m sure of it, my son,” Voldemort said, combing his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Now go do your reading.”

“Okay Daddy, I love you.”


	7. Letter from Hogwarts

Ch. 7

Letter from Hogwarts

Harry and Logan acted as if the kiss never happened. The first day back to school, they silently agreed to never talk or mention the kiss and just go on with their lives. And so they did. The two boys visited each others’ homes throughout the years, Harry showed off his magic to Logan whenever he could at home while Logan showed how he and his family made the chocolate at his father’s workshop.

Years passed and they’ve gotten closer. Then Harry turned eleven.

The young wizard woke up excited that day, he was finally eleven! He was going to get his letter to Hogwarts! Though his excitement dwindled as he heard yelling. Frowning, the boy slipped out of his bed, not bothering to change out of his pajamas, and left his room. He heard hostile voices coming from the front foyer. Edging slowly, Harry made his way down the corridors and peaked his head around the corner, looking into the foyer. Daddy was standing by the stairs, his wand out and trained on an old looking man with a long white beard and hair, wearing a purple robe. “I know he is here Tom, you shouldn’t have taken him,” the old man said. Harry frowned. Nobody was allowed to call Daddy ‘Tom.’ Daddy told him that nobody remembers his name.

“You are not welcome here old man, get out of my house,” Voldemort smeared.

Harry took a step, wanting to take a closer look. The floor underneath him creaked and the small boy winced. The two men turned to look at him. “Harry,” the old man breathed.

“Harry, go back to your room,” Voldemort ordered.

“Daddy, who is—”

“I will talk about it later, now go to your room. _Now_ ,” Voldemort said, his voice loud and commanding.

“Harry… you’re safe, you’re not hurt…” the old man said. Voldemort turned angrily to the man, “You will not talk to my son!”

“Your son?” the old man said. “Harry Potter is not your son, Tom. He is supposed to be with his family. His Aunt and Uncle—”

“Harry is my son,” Voldemort said again. “You will not take him from me!”

“Daddy?” Harry squeaked, taking a step down the stairs. “Who is this? Is he going to take me away from you?”

“No, he will not,” Voldemort said, looking sharply at the old man. “Now go to your room and get dressed. Your friend will be here in an hour.”

“But Daddy—”

“Harry! Do as I say!” Voldemort screamed. Harry yipped and jumped back. Voldemort glared at Dumbledore, “Look at what you made me do, Dumbledore. You made me yell at my son!”

“He is not your son, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “You do not know such relations.”

“And how would you know? What do you think was happening these past eleven years?” Voldemort asked. “In fact… what were you doing these past eleven years, old man? For while you were busy running your school… I was raising Harry Riddle, my loving son.”

“He is not your son,” Dumbledore said for the third time.

“Oh? Then let us ask Harry himself, I know that he is still listening, are you Harry?” Voldemort smirked and looked up the staircase. Harry poked his head out, blushing.

“I’m sorry Dad,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter Harry, come down here,” Voldemort said. His wand still trained on Dumbledore, he extended his other arm. Looking hesitantly at both men, Harry slowly made his way down the stairs, wishing he put socks on before he left his room as he felt an unnatural cold sweeping through his toes. The two men watched Harry carefully, Voldemort’s eyes glancing between Harry and Dumbledore, as if waiting for Dumbledore to snatch the boy then and there. Harry stopped next to his Daddy and wrapped an arm around Voldemort, halfway using the man as a shield from the strange old man.

“Harry…” the old man said, his voice grandfatherly. “I am Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, and I was friends with your parents. You remember your parents, do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry nodded. “Daddy told me about them.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That they died,” Harry said. “They were fighting Daddy and they died.”

“Yes… yes they were fighting against the Dark Lord,” Dumbledore said. “But what else do you know? Do you know who killed them?”

“No, Daddy won’t tell me—”

“The boy isn’t old enough, Dumbledore,” Voldemort said roughly.

“Isn’t old enough to know that the murderer of his own parents has been raising him for the past eleven years?” Dumbledore argued.

“What? What was that?” Harry asked. He looked between Dumbledore and Voldemort, shocked. “Daddy… Daddy what did he mean by that?”

“Harry—”

“Lord Voldemort killed your parents,” Dumbledore said gravely. “He is the reason why you are here, in this unfortunate situation Harry.”

“I…I…Daddy—” Harry couldn’t believe his ears. Daddy killed his parents? That’s impossible, illogical, incomprehensible and inconceivable! There’s no way, simply no way that the man Harry loved, the man Harry looked up to and aspired to be like—the man who have raised him could murder his parents. Voldemort glared at Dumbledore, looking absolutely livid. He knelt and turned to Harry, his expression softening. “Daddy, what is he talking about?” Harry asked. “Did you really…”

“Yes,” Voldemort said. “I have killed your parents. However, Harry, that inexcusable action is in the past.”

“Were you… were you ever going to tell me?” Harry asked coldly.

“Of course I was,” Voldemort said. “You were—are—too young. I was going to wait till you were of age. When you were old enough to understand my actions—”

“So you were going to lie to me for seven more years?” Harry sniffled.

“No, I never lied to you—”

“You killed my Mum and Dad!” Harry screamed.

“That was a different me,” Voldemort said. “I was in a horrible place, you have changed me so much these past eleven years.” Harry sniffled and looked up at Voldemort. “You are my son, Harry. … …I love you.”

Harry hiccupped. “I want to go to Logan’s,” he said, his voice heavy.

Voldemort nodded. “Of course, go get ready and I’ll walk you—”

“I want to walk by myself,” Harry said.

“Harry,” the Dark Lord said, looking shocked. Harry moved out of Voldemort’s embrace and walked up the stairs, moving as if he was missing his soul. Voldemort stayed knelt until he heard Harry’s door closing. He was hoping that Harry slam it, show some emotion, but he didn’t. Instead the door slipped to a close quietly, barely making a noise. Voldemort stood up slowly and turned to Dumbledore. “You stupid old man,” Voldemort sneered. “Look at what you have done to my son.”

“Harry is not your son,” Dumbledore said simply. “He deserves to live with his family—”

“I am his family!” Voldemort said. “I am more family to him than his disgusting muggle relatives! Here he knows what he is, he is happy, he cannot be happy with that lard of a whale and donkey-faced woman!”

“They are his relatives, he should be living with—”

“Get out of my house Dumbledore,” Voldemort sneered. “The war is over, the world thinks that I am dead. Let’s leave it at that.”

“You are lying, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “I know you, you will not be satisfied until the wizarding world is under your control.”

“You know me?” Voldemort asked, laughing. “That is ridiculous, Dumbledore. Tell me then, why would I kept Harry? Why would I raise him?”

“Simple,” Dumbledore said. “To turn him into a weapon—”

“A weapon with a friend?” Voldemort asked. “You heard my son before you made him storm off, he is going to see Logan, a muggle.”

“A muggle?” Dumbledore asked, looking completely flabbergasted and confused. “You allow him to have a muggle friend?”

“Yes, I do,” Voldemort said.

Dumbledore continued to stare at him. “I have changed, old man,” Voldemort continued. “Though it seems between the two of us, I am the only one to change.”

“This is not possible Tom, you were always hungry for power and respect,” Dumbledore accused.

“Parenthood have done wondrous things, Dumbledore,” Voldemort chuckled. “I have even regained my youthful appearance.” Voldemort smirked. It was true, though being nearly in his sixties, the man looked to be a handsome man in mid-forties. “Now, if all you were planning to do is sully my name and making my son cry, you may leave Harry’s Hogwarts letter here and be on your way.”

Voldemort pointed at a small end table next to the front door, on which a potted plant rested. Dumbledore stood his ground. He stared at Voldemort, clearly confused, but he took a step backwards towards the door. His wand still trained on Voldemort, Dumbledore pulled a letter out of his pocket and placed it on the small table before leaving.

The Dark Lord quickly flicked his wand and the letter soared into his hands. Then he sighed and turned towards the stairs. He had a son to comfort.

Harry was crying on his bed as Voldemort opened the door. The Dark Lord took the time to examine how cutely handsome his son has grown. His black raven-hair was purposefully disheveled, and his eyes normally shone like sparkling emeralds behind thick lashes and round glasses. His lips had a natural pout, and his nose reminded Voldemort of a baby rabbit. The boy was small, but not malnourished, Voldemort made sure that the boy wouldn’t leave the dining room without finishing his plate. His skin was pale, like his Daddy’s. Voldemort wondered how that happened, but assumed that, like having his ability to speak Parseltongue, Harry has inherited the marble skin from him.

“Go away,” Harry cried, not even looking at Voldemort. “I hate you!”

“No you don’t,” Voldemort sighed. “I’m your father, your Daddy, there is no way you can hate me.” Harry didn’t respond, he just continued to cry on his bed. The Dark Lord closed the door behind him. “Dumbledore left, I have your Hogwarts letter.” Still no response. “Harry, you’re going to have to talk to me eventually.” Nothing. Voldemort sat on Harry’s bed and reached out for the sprawled out boy. Harry flinched at his touch.

“Was everything a lie?” Harry croaked out.

“No,” Voldemort said, shocked. “No Harry, you are my son. I care for you too much.”

“You said you love me…you never said that before,” Harry said. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Voldemort said easily.

“Liar.”

Voldemort’s expression soured. “Harry Riddle! I am your father, everything I say to you is the truth. I have not and never will lie to you. How dare you think that. You are my son, I have raised you better than to disrespect me like this! I was going to wait, Harry, until you are seventeen because then you will be emotionally mature enough to handle the news. But since Dumbledore brought it up, here is the truth: I killed Lily and James Potter on Halloween. There was a war, people die in wars. They were the last causality.”

“Why didn’t you kill me then?” Harry bit angrily.

“Because you were only a baby,” Voldemort said. “Even monsters have hearts, my son. Instead of killing you, I stole you away and raised you as my son. And with that, the world believes that I am dead and that you, Harry, have stopped the war.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Harry, you,” Voldemort said, smiling and speaking softly. “I’m sorry to say that your reputation precedes you. That, and only that, is what I have been hiding from you. I do not want their stories filling your mind with doubts as you grew.”

Harry sniffled but finally looked at Voldemort. “Daddy… why can’t I hate you?”

“Because I love you Harry,” Voldemort said. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I should have been saying this your entire life but could only bring myself now to say it.”

“Daddy…”

Voldemort pulled the small boy onto his lap with ease and hugged him closely, smiling when he felt Harry’s small arms wrap around his back. The father and son sat there, silently hugging each other for some time. “I am so proud of you Harry, don’t forget that,” Voldemort whispered as he combed his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I’m still mad, Daddy,” Harry cried.

“That’s okay,” Voldemort said. “This will take time to get through, but we will. Do you know why?”

Harry looked up at Voldemort. “Because you are my Daddy?”

“And you are my son,” Voldemort nodded. “Now, why don’t we take a look at your Hogwarts letter?” Voldemort asked, pulling it out.

Harry nodded and took the envelope.

_Harry Potter_

_Riddle Manor_

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

Deputy Headmistress

 

Harry felt Voldemort kiss the top of his head and rub his shoulder. It was weird to feel so much intimacy from his Daddy, but also nice. Harry leaned into his Daddy as he read the letter for himself.

Harry looked up at his father, holding both letter and envelope. “Can I show this to Logan?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course, you can, Harry and tomorrow we’ll get everything you need,” Voldemort said. “And while you visit Logan, I’ll write your reply. And see if we can’t fix the ‘Potter’ mistake. Unless you want to…”

Harry shook his head, his mood slowly improving. “No,” he said. “I’m a Riddle, that’s my last name.”

Voldemort nodded. Harry slipped off of Voldemort’s lap and moved to his wardrobe. He waited until the Dark Lord left before he changed for the day and left, the Hogwarts letter clenched tightly in his fist.

Logan lived in a house in the middle of the town. It was a small house considering that Logan lived there with his parents and his five brothers. Harry knocked, now fully excited to see Logan and tell him the good news. The door opened for an older teenager with thick muscled arms to block Harry’s view.

“Still six, Riddle?” the teenager grunted.

“Hi Shawn, is Logan here?” Harry asked.

“He’s outside, why? Got a date or something?”

“No,” Harry said. “I just have something great to tell him!” Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling.

“Too cute for your own good,” Shawn grumbled. “Alright, come in.”

“Thank you, Shawn,” Harry smiled. “How’s looking for universities doing?”

“Alright, can’t complain,” Shawn shrugged. “Ma’s mad I don’t have a girl yet but I’m still young.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll find a girl at uni,” Harry smiled. The teen led Harry through the house towards the backdoor that led to the backyard, it was a straight corridor between the two doors, and he opened it. Logan was in the back with his second older brother who was showing him how to properly do a push-up.

The sweaty pre-teen looked up and smiled when he saw Harry. “Harry!” he cried out, pushing himself off the ground. He was only wearing a tank top and shorts. “What’re doing here?”

“To show you this,” the small boy smiled, flashing the envelope in Logan’s face.

“A letter?” the boy said confused. Harry opened his mouth to speak when he felt his hair being ruffled. “Hiya pretty boy, here for more chocolate?” Logan’s second oldest brother laughed. “You’ll lose your figure that way.”

“No, I’m here to show Logan something very _important_ ,” Harry said. “But since you asked…” Harry licked his lips and looked up at the older boy, his eyes looking innocent and pure. “Johnny,” he purred the boy’s name. “Can you please get me some chocolate? I haven’t eaten any in _so_ long.”

Johnny stared at Harry before cursing slightly. “You’re too cute for your own good,” he said. “If you were a girl, you’d have all the guys wrapped around your finger.”

“What makes you think I don’t?” Harry asked, looking as innocent as he could as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got me there, but that ain’t gonna do you no good if you ain’t a poof when you’re older,” Johnny smirked before leaving inside. Harry frowned, the brothers called him a poof every now and then in good humor but never told Harry what it meant.

Pushing it out of his mind, Harry turned to Logan and flashed the envelope again. “My letter to Hogwarts,” he declared.

“Wicked,” Logan said, taking the letter from Harry and reading it. “Potter?” he frowned, looking at Harry.

Harry blushed. “My parents’ last name… they’ve put that instead of my real name.”

“Oh… ‘Potter’… I like Riddle better,” Logan said. Harry smiled as Logan began reading his letter. “So it’s real,” Logan said when he was done reading. “You really are going to this place.”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. He looked at Logan, who wasn’t smiling as brightly as he usually does. Harry’s smile faltered a bit. “You’re… you’re not happy, are you?”

“No, I’m happy for you,” Logan said. “It’s just going to be weird… us not being in the same school. Who am I going to give chocolate too?”

Harry giggled softly. “Well, it’s not like we can’t talk to each other,” he said.

“They have phones there?”

“I don’t think so—but I’ll write letters to you every week,” Harry said. “I’ll write you so much letters that you won’t have a chance to miss me!” Harry smiled sweetly.

Logan seemed stun and sighed, shaking his head. “If only you were a chick,” he muttered to himself.

“What?” Harry said, not hearing Logan.

“Nothing, so what do you need for this special school?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I didn’t check,” Harry said. Logan pulled out the second piece of paper and read it out loud.

“’First year students will require: 1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear,’ they’re making you wear a pointed hat? How silly looking. ‘3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)’ wait… _dragons_? Fu—stinking dragons exists? Harry, why didn’t you tell me that!” Logan exclaimed, looking at the small boy who blushed and bit his lip. “Anyway… ‘4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings) please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags.’ Harry are you going to wear _anything_ that isn’t black?”

“My tie is going to be green and silver for Slytherin, one of the four Houses that I’m going to be sorted into,” Harry said. “And I’m sure I can wear regular clothes underneath.”

“You better—do I have to _dress_ you? Make you remember what normal clothes look like?” Logan joked.

“I’m sure pretty boy would look good in a dress,” Johnny smirked, walking back outside with some chocolate. “What do you say Harry? Be the daughter Ma always wanted.” He laughed as he gave Harry his plate.

“No thanks,” Harry said coolly. “I think I’d rather just wear your clothes, should fit me enough.”

Logan’s brother gave a short, loud laugh. “You’ll look more of a baby than you already do Harry!” he said. “So why you need to dress pretty-boy up, Logan?”

“Because my school’s uniform is going to be mostly black,” Harry said, taking the letter from Logan before his brother could.

“That’s stupid, what is it some preppy school?” the teen grunted.

“You can say that,” Harry shrugged. He smiled at Logan, “Anyway, I just wanted to show it to you Logan. Tomorrow Daddy and I are going to get everything for school. I’ll see if you can’t come over when we’re done.”

“Cool,” Logan shrugged. Harry pocketed the letter and took a bite of the chocolate, moaning softly. “This is delicious Johnny! Did you make it?”

“’Course,” the teen said. “I make it with a _special_ sauce.”

“Thank you, Johnny, I’ll eat it on my way home. See you Logan!” Harry waved enthusiastically as he turned and left the backyard.

Johnny gave a low whistle when Harry closed the door. “Damn, if only he was a chick, right? Damn perfect woman,” he slapped Logan’s back. “Calls his da’ ‘daddy’ and everything. Good quality in a woman.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan brushed off.

“Course you do,” Johnny smirked. “Unless you’re a poof like him.”

“Harry isn’t a poof, he just wears his emotions on his sleeves,” Logan said a little angrily.

“Right… well still damn shame he ain’t a girl, even I would have had a go. Right, get off your ass and give me ten,” Johnny said, and he pushed Logan to the ground to finish their push-ups.

 

Harry smiled on his way home. He was still a little angry at Voldemort, but the man was right, there was no way Harry could stop loving the man. He was his Daddy. Besides, seeing Logan lifted Harry’s mood immensely, despite Logan’s brothers making jokes he couldn’t get. And tomorrow he was going to shop for Hogwarts! Taking a bit of Johnny’s chocolate, Harry moaned in delight. Voldemort was right. It was going to take time for the two to get over what that old man, Dumbledore, revealed. But the truth is out there, and with time, Harry and the Dark Lord will only get closer.


	8. Diagon Alley

Ch. 8

Diagon Alley

Harry woke up early the next day. He was super excited to go and buy everything he needed for Hogwarts! Standing in his pajamas, Harry looked around as he wondered what he was going to wear. He had robes of practically all of his favorite colors, crisp clean button-down shirts that fitted him nicely and made him look handsome, but those were things that Harry wore everyday. He needed something special! Something memorable! This was his _first_ day in the wizarding world! This was going to be the _first time_ he was going to be with other wizards and he needs a special outfit for it, darn it!

Digging deep in his wardrobe, Harry frowned when he saw a dark blue tank top that was too big for him. Frowning, Harry stared at it, wondering why he had it. “Oh!” he said. “This is Logan’s… why is it here?” Harry stared at it again. The more he stared at it, the more he liked it. Blushing lightly as he remembered the way Logan looked in it, Harry immediately threw all of his clothes off and put the tank top on. It fell to just above his knees. He spun around in it, laughing a little at how it covered his butt, and decided that the tank top will be the special thing he wears under his regular clothes. He was sure that Logan wouldn’t mind.

Over the tank top that went over his butt (Harry couldn’t stop giggling at that for some reason), he wore a dark green button-down shirt, slacks, and his lightest robe. He was at the breakfast table before Daddy and he continued to giggle to himself. _Logan’s shirt is on my butt,_ he thought. He did not know why, but just the act and thought of him wearing Logan’s sleeveless shirt makes him giggle, especially when he thinks about his Daddy and how prim and proper he tends to be with clothes.

“You are up early, Harry,” The Dark Lord said as he walked in, already wearing his robes.

“We’re going shopping for my Hogwarts stuff right?” Harry smiled excitedly.

“Yes, we are,” Voldemort nodded. ‘However, you must eat first.”

“Alright Daddy,” Harry giggled. He wiggled his butt a little against Logan’s’ shirt. Voldemort stared at the boy confused at why he was giggling, but ignored it. “So, what do I need? And can I show Logan when we get home?”

Voldemort waved his wand and Harry’s list appeared. He read through it then looked at Harry. “This will take most of the morning, and some of the afternoon,” he said. “And I will not allow you to run around with your wand before your first day of school.”

“But Daddy—”

“No.”

Harry pouted and slumped against the chair. “Fine Daddy… I’ll just show Logan the next time he comes over—oh, Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“Yesterday when I was at Logan’s I was talking with his brothers,” Harry began.

“Those loathsome muggles,” Voldemort muttered. “I tolerate your friend, but his family is horrid. What did they say?”

“What’s a poof? Logan’s brothers keep asking me if I’m a poof,” Harry said.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “They are calling you a poof?” he demanded.

“No, no!” Harry said quickly. “But sometimes they just joke around, and say that I should be a girl because of cuteness. It’s all just good fun Daddy. But I want to know, what’s a poof?”

“It’s a derogatory term for a boy who likes boys, as in boys who wants to kiss boys instead of girls,” Voldemort explained.

Harry grimaced. “Kiss girls? Gross. Logan taught me that they have this nasty sickness called cooties.”

Voldemort just hummed, relieved that his son is still so innocent. Though he mentally reminded himself to visit Logan’s home and have a small talk with the brothers of Harry’s friend. “So, what else did they tell you, Harry?” he asked.

Harry took a bite from the plate of pancakes that just appeared. “Nothing else,” Harry said, deciding to keep the chocolate a secret. It was the very best chocolate he had ever eaten.

“I see…well once you finish your breakfast, we will leave,” Voldemort said, and he disappeared behind his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Harry returned to his food and focused on eating, every now and again wiggling his butt against Logan’s wife beater, smirking to himself. He didn’t know why, but the feeling of the fabric rubbing against his butt just makes the small eleven-year-old want to giggle, especially when he was standing wearing just the tank top and it fell to above his knees.

When they were done with breakfast twenty minutes later, Harry waited for his Daddy to finish the newspaper, Voldemort made sure that Harry was wearing his cloak properly before Voldemort took a hold of Harry’s hand.

“We are going to Apparate there Harry, _do not let go_.”

“I won’t, Daddy,” Harry said, and he squeezed onto Voldemort’s hand as tightly as he could. Voldemort took a step forward and Harry felt a tight pull at his navel. It was as if he was buckled to Voldemort, iron bands strapping over them before being transported down a long skinny tube. It was a suffocating experience that barely lasted a second before the bands disappeared and Harry breathed again.

They weren’t in Riddle Manor.

They weren’t in Little Hangleton.

They weren’t anywhere that Harry recognized.

They were in a crowded street with shops cramped on either side. Men and women wearing black robes shuffled up and down the small crooked street. Harry stood out in his green cloak. Squeezing Daddy’s fingers, he looked up at the man and asked, “Where are we Daddy?”

“Knockturn Alley,” Voldemort said. “It is connected to Diagon Alley, where we will get all that you need.”

“What’s in Knockturn Alley?” Harry asked.

“Dark Objects, and shops for Dark Wizards,” Voldemort said.

“Daddy… if I’m good… can we please look at one of the shops here? Please Daddy?” Harry asked, looking up to Voldemort.

The handsome man smirked. “Of course Harry,” he said. “If you are a good boy, I’ll buy you the Darkest Artifact you can find.”

Harry smiled and hugged his Daddy before they made their way down Knockturn Alley and into Diagon Alley. Diagon Alley was more jam-packed and colorful compared to Knockturn. Harry was amazed at all the colorful cloaks and displays around him, his neck began to hurt as he craned his neck to look around. “Where are we going first?” he asked.

“Gringotts, Harry,” Voldemort said. “We need money.”

Harry nodded as they headed towards a snowy white building that towered over all other shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. He bowed as the two walked inside, past a pair of sliver doors, and into a huge marble hall filled with more goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. Harry and his Daddy moved to the nearest one.

Voldemort produced a key and said, “We will be withdrawing from the Riddle vault.”

The goblin looked at Voldemort for a moment before calling out another goblin. Harry and Voldemort followed that goblin through a door that led to a mineshaft with railroad tracks. The goblin whistled in a minecart and the three got in. At frist they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, left, middle, fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because the goblin wasn’t steering.

Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late—they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. Ahead of them was a waterfall that the cart blazed through, stopping, at last, in front of a small metal door.

Voldemort helped Harry out of the cart, the small wizard feeling very nauseous which went away with a flick of Voldemort’s wand. Voldemort went to the metal door and pulled out his key. Placing it in a lock Harry couldn’t see, the door swung open and Harry gasped as he stared at a mountain of gold four times as high as his Daddy and twelve times as vast. There were artifacts and heirlooms hanging against the walls, and Harry stared at them. He had no idea they were this rich! For some reason, a strange golden cup called for him to touch it. Stepping inside the vault, Harry’s arm reached out for the cup, only to be stopped by Voldemort.

“Harry!” he said, grabbing Harry’s arm. “Do not _touch_ anything. They’re enchanted.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Harry muttered. Voldemort just turned and pulled out a leather pouch, which he gave to Harry. “Hold it open,” he said. Harry did so. Voldemort waved his wand and the top of the mountain of gold Galleons flew into the pouch, which never gotten any heavier even though it was being filled rapidly. When the coins stopped flying inside, Harry closed the pouch and gave it to Voldemort.

“Where did all of this money come from?” Harry asked.

“My followers,” Voldemort said. “When your Daddy was in full power… when I was openly fighting Dumbledore, my followers decided to show their loyalty by giving me a fraction of their wealth. Malfoy, Lestrange, Yaxley… our wealth comes from their fanatic loyalty to your Father.”

“Do you think they’re still loyal, Daddy?” Harry asked as they got back in the minecart.

“If they are smart, yes,” Voldemort said. “Though I have no current ambitions to restarting the war.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, you’ll get hurt,” Voldemort said.

Harry stared at his Daddy. The minecart jolted to a start and the best Harry could do was smile and lean against the man he loved to show his appreciation. Voldemort placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, his heart, which felt bigger than it did eleven years ago, swelling with pride for his son.

 

As they were walking out of Gringotts, Harry holding the jingling leather pouch of Galleons, Voldemort pulled out Harry’s list and examined it. “Your robes are closest,” Voldemort said. He led Harry towards Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in mauve. “Hogwarts, dear?” she said as soon as Harry and Voldemort walked in. “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

Voldemort decided to look through the store as Harry went to the back where a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head after he took off his own, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” the boy said. “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy said. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow. Have _you_ got your own broom?”

“Daddy didn’t allow me,” Harry said.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“Nope,” Harry said. This boy seemed like a, what was that word Logan used, a prick.

“ _I_ do—Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“Slytherin like my Daddy,” Harry answered.

The boy looked at him, “You in Slytherin? Ha! _I_ will be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” Harry said, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting. Voldemort appeared, holding several robes of various colors. “Harry, do you like best?” he asked. The Dark Lord took one look at the boy and said, “You must be a Malfoy.”

“How do you know my family?” the boy, Malfoy, accused. “I don’t know who _you_ are.”

“It seems Lucius have failed to teach you manners,” Voldemort frowned. He turned to Harry. “Harry?”

“Um… the green one,” Harry said, pointing to a poisonous green colored robe. Voldemort nodded and looked back at Malfoy, who was still staring at him, clearly angry that both Harry and Voldemort were ignoring him. “How do you know my father?” he demanded.

Voldemort stare down at Malfoy, but did not answer directly. Instead, he just said, “Ask him yourself, Malfoy, since he had failed to raise you properly. And when you do, ask him if he had kept my diary.”

“What’s your surname?” Malfoy asked, looking at Harry.

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” the drawling boy said.

Outside the shop, Harry looked at Voldemort. “Daddy, who are the Malfoys again?” he asked, holding Voldemort’s hand.

“They are a very influential family, Harry,” Voldemort said. “When I went to Hogwarts, Abraxas, the grandfather, while Lucius Malfoy was my follower. Remember the mountain of gold in our vault? Abraxas is the reason for half of it.”

“Are they all pricks?” Harry asked.

Voldemort gave him a sharp look and Harry felt a sting to his butt. “Do not use that word, Harry Riddle,” Voldemort threatened.

“Sorry Daddy…”

“Where did you even learn that word?”

“Logan and his brothers, Daddy,” Harry said. Voldemort frowned, now he needed to extend his “talk” with Logan’s brothers.

“You seem to be developing quite a vocabulary from the McMann brothers,” he said. Harry frowned. His Daddy was clearly disappointed.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I’ll never say that word again,” he said.

“Good,” Voldemort smirked. “Come along now.” He led Harry to a book shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Voldemort allowed his son to wander a little, looking at titles such as _Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs , Tongue-Tying, and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

“Harry, over here,” Voldemort called out, and made his son focus on buying just the books he needed. For some reason, Harry would giggle every now and again. The Dark Lord did not know why his son was giggling. Every now and again Harry would walk in an odd way, or whenever he leaned against a wall or shelf, he would giggle to himself. He giggled in Flourish and Blotts, and he giggled madly to himself when they got the pewter cauldron, and he hummed as they got his potion ingredients at the Apothecary.

Whenever Voldemort asked his son why he was giggling like a lunatic, Harry just gave him a cute, wide smile and said, “No reason, just happy.”

“I see… well all that is left is your wand,” Voldemort said.

“Where are we going to get that?” Harry asked.

“Ollivanders,” Voldemort said. “It is where everyone at Hogwarts get their wand.” He pointed to a narrow and shabby shop. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. “I will wait outside here, Harry,” Voldemort said.

“Why?” Harry frowned.

“That man has… an unnatural ability,” Voldemort said. “Needless to say that I still do not want to be recognized.”

“But we’re out in the open!” Harry gasped. Voldemort smirked and chuckled.

“My sweet son… haven’t you forgotten? What did Daddy use during the war?”

Harry frowned, thinking, before he looked up at the man, “You disguised your whole body,” he said. “You looked like this scary monster with no nose instead of the handsomest Daddy to the cutest son.” Harry gave him a cheeky grin.

Voldemort smiled and shook his head. “Yes, I have a very cute son,” he said. “However, the owner of this shop will not recognize you by your face.”

Harry frowned but Voldemort said no more, instead he urged Harry to walk into the shop. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as he stepped inside. It was a tiny place. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed and looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled nearly right up to the ceiling.

“Good afternoon,” a soft voice said. Harry jumped. An old man was standing before him, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

“Hello,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Ah yes,” the man said. “Yes, I was wondering when I’d be seeing you, Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink, those silver eyes were creeping the boy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Mr. Ollivander pulled away suddenly and pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

“I’m right-handed,” Harry said.

“Hold it out. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, than wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head. At some point the measuring tape started to measure by itself as Mr. Ollivander said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good result with another wizard’s wand.” As he talked, he was taking down boxes.

He gave Harry a wand and told Harry to wave it, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it almost at once. Harry tried and tried with various kinds of wands with various kinds of cores, but the more he tried, the more Ollivander took the wand from him. The pile of tried wands grew higher and higher on a spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.’

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of green and silver sparks shot from the end like a firework. “Oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…” Mr. Ollivander muttered.

“I’m sorry, but what’s curious?”

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose feather is in your wand, gave another feather—one other feather. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed. He made sure to hide the scar Daddy gave him all those years ago under his black hair.

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. …I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. …After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed him from his shop.

“He scared me a little,” Harry said. “And he called me ‘Potter’ and says that I have my mother’s eyes.”

Voldemort nodded. “Good,” he said. “Then we have no trouble, they still believe that I am still gone.”

“But I don’t _like_ being called ‘Potter,’ Harry said. “I’m a Riddle! Harry Riddle!”

“I know Harry, but don’t worry, I have written to Hogwarts, and they will all call you by Riddle,” Voldemort said. Harry smiled and looked up at the man. “What is next to buy?” he asked.

“That is all, Harry,” Voldemort said.

Harry smiled and looked up at the man. “I’ve been a good boy Daddy, right?” he asked, his voice purposefully going innocent and high, his eyes meeting Voldemort’s. “That means I get a reward, right?”

Voldemort chuckled. He shook his head and smirked at Harry. “You will be a devil at Hogwarts,” he said. Harry gave a cheeky grin and grabbed Voldemort’s hand.

“Come on Daddy, you promised,” he said.

“Cheeky brat, very well,” Voldemort said. “As it happens, I have business at the Knockturn Alley as well. Unless you would want to bring a pet to Hogwarts? You are allowed an owl…”

“No, we already have one, right?” Harry asked. “I’ll use him.”

“Very well,” Voldemort said. The two made their way to Knockturn Alley and into the first shop Harry saw. The owner watched curiously as the young wizard looked around the shop openly, pointing out at random objects and asking his father about them. Voldemort was clearly disappointed in the quality of the items in this shop. “Harry,” he said after some time. “None of these are fit to even enter our village, let alone our home.”

“Really?” Harry frowned.

“Indeed. Look at this,” he pointed to a rotting hand. “This is just a charmed severed hand, worthless compared to our possessions.”

The shopkeeper began to sneer at the man. Who was he to insult his shop? He was about to yell at the man when he turned towards him. “This shop have gone downhill since I worked here,” the man drawled. “I am surprise if you can sell a toilet, let alone these travesties.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled the boy out of the shop. “You worked here?” Harry asked.

“Yes, for some time,” Voldemort said. “After I graduated Hogwarts, I came and worked here for a few years to learn about the Dark Arts.”

“Cool,” Harry smiled.

“I hoped that the quality would remain the same after so many years,” Voldemort continued. “It seems I am mistaken.”

“So where are we going to get my dark artifact?” Harry pouted.

“Don’t worry, Harry, I will find something that is worth the son of the Dark Lord,” Voldemort said. “For now, let us return home. I believe we have an owl to prepare for Hogwarts.”

He gave the bags to Harry, who ran up to his room to put away his new belongings. The first thing he did after he closed the door was throwing off all of his clothes but Logan’s wife beater. He still thought it was the funniest thing wearing Logan’s clothes and having it rub against his butt. He giggled and laughed as he unpacked his new belongings, stopping to look at his new wand and grinned. He couldn’t wait to show it off to Logan!

 

Lucius Malfoy paled. “What did that man say, Draco?” he demanded.

“I told you, father,” Draco Malfoy said with a bit of an attitude. “The man and that small kid knew your name and told me to ask you about his diary. Who was he father? I want to know!”

“Go to your room,” Mr. Malfoy said. Draco glared at his parents before stomping away, grumbling, though he stopped just behind the door to listen in. Mr. Malfoy looked over at his wife, who looked a little confused.

“Who was the man Draco met?” she asked.

“That man, Nissy,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Was the Dark Lord… and that must mean the boy was Potter.”

“You mean the Dark Lord raised—”

“Potter? Indeed,” Mr. Malfoy sighed. “And our son just mouthed him off.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

Harry Charms a Weasley

Mr. McMann is not a morning person. He is not the type of person to be fully conscious, or dressed, at nine in the morning on a Sunday afternoon. To be completely honest, Mr. McMann hated weekend mornings when he had to be up before ten. Which is why, just two days after Harry Riddle visited, he found himself abrupted waking up to the annoying high-pitched buzz of his doorbell, followed by three consistent knocks.

“Bloody hell,” the portly man groaned as he shifted out of bed, accidently waking up his wife. “Who the bloody blazes is stupid enough to knock on my door on a Sunday morning?” Dressed in just his pajamas, the man shuffled his way to the front door, growing more annoyed and agitated with each step. “Go away!” he cried out. “I don’t make anything today—if the post ain’t working, then neither than me, so do yourself a favor and sod—Oh Mr. Riddle!”

The figure of Mr. Riddle, dressed, as always, prim in a sleek suit, stood on his doorway, his handsome face with brown eyes looking agitated. “Hello Mr. McMann,” the man said with some unfriendliness. I was wondering your sons are around.”

“Usually Harry comes to get Logan—”

“No, not him,” Mr. Riddle said dismissively. “Your other sons.”

Mr. McMann’s face screwed up in confusion. Why the blazes does he want his sons for? He was about to ask the man that when his wife appeared from behind him. “Mr. Riddle! What an unexpected surprise. Come on, come in—is Harry with you? Logan is asleep right now, I’ll get the kettle going.”

“Harry is still asleep,” Mr. Riddle said smoothly as he walked past Mr. McMann. “He was up late last night making sure that he had everything he needed for school, even though term does not start till September.”

“I’ve heard about that, Logan’s told me all about it,” Mrs. McMann said.

“Has he now?” Mr. Riddle asked.

“Yes, you must be very proud for him to get accepted into your old school,” Mrs. McMann said. “Though you must be worried for him. London’s a terrible place for such a small boy. And he is _living_ there?”

“It is a good school,” Voldemort said. He took a second to search the muggles’ minds and was relieved to see that they were still ignorant to magic. “And we will have a constant communication between us. Weekly letters, and the such.”

“They do not have telephones there?” Mrs. McMann asked curiously.

“Telephones are only for the staff use,” Mr. Riddle lied. “It keeps penmanship alive.”

“That’s a good thing. Would you believe that my oldest barely knows to sign his name? Terrible really, the things they don’t teach in schools anymore,” Mrs. McMann tutted. Mr. McMann entered the room, fully given up on trying to go back to sleep. “So you be wanting to talking with Logan, I suppose.”

“No actually, your other sons,” Mr. Riddle. “Now I understand that Harry is friends with them all, and while I have nothing against their friendship, I do, however, am a little worried about certain words they are teaching him.”

“Really?” Mr. McMann grunted. “How you know that he picked them up from our boys?”

“Because Harry told me,” Mr. Riddle said. “And please forgive me if I believe my son over yours.”

“Boy’s lying then,” Mr. McMann grunted.

“John!” Mrs. McMann said, giving her husband a dirty look. Looking back at Mr. Riddle, she asked, “What sort of words is Harry saying?”

“To my knowledge, only prick and poof,” Voldemort said. “And I hope that that is the end of it.”

Mr. McMann gave a short laugh. “Those ain’t swear words,” he said. “Prick and poof? Really? I hear me mother say worst words when I was five! The boy’s fine cursing a little.”

Mr. Riddle frowned. “ _The boy_ ,” he said, “is not fine cursing a little. He is only barely eleven. I am grateful that he is not asking me about sex or masturbation or ‘wanking’ as your boys would call it. I am not, and will never, criticize or judge you on the way you raise your sons, but I am trying to keep my only child away from such language until he can fully understand them. So either you can tell your children to learn to watch their tongues while they’re around Harry, or I will.”

“He’s gonna turn into a pansy if you keep this up, Mr. Riddle. I’m not criticize you either, but the boy needs a little toughening up! The way you going, the boy’s going to end up a poof, and it ain’t going to be me boys’ fault,” Mr. McMann said before he could stop himself.

Mr. Riddle turned to stare down at Mr. McMann, for a second, it seemed as though his eyes turned red before returning to their normal brown. “Believe me when I say,” Mr. Riddle hissed, his voice low and poisonous, “Harry is a much stronger boy than you think. Riddles do not need physical strength to show how ‘strong’ we are. I’ve little respect for you Mr. McMann, but our sons practically love each other. So for that, I will respect you and your raising methods. That said… stand up, and bring your sons to me. _All_ of them.”

The muggle looked pale. Gapping like a fish, and several shades lighter, he stumbled to his feet and walked away from Mr. Riddle, their eyes never leaving each other. When he spoke, his voice crackled as if going through puberty again. “B-boys! Get down here!”

Mr. Riddle waited, sitting down at the kitchen table after helping himself to a cup of tea (“Mrs. McMann, please sit down.” He said to Mrs. McMann after she tried to get it for him). Mr. Riddle heard the sounds of footsteps pounding away from upstairs. One by one the McMann brothers appeared. Some wearing pajamas, some choosing to wear only a pair of boxers. _Thank God I never allowed Harry to sleep here,_ Mr. Riddle thought to himself. Logan was, thankfully, in full pajamas.

“Morning Mr. Riddle, Harry here?” he yawned.

“No, Harry is sleeping,” Mr. Riddle said. “He was packing until late last night. I’m here to talk to all of you. To give you a simple request.”

“What is it, Mr. Riddle?” Logan asked politely.

“Your language, keep it clean when around Harry,” Mr. Riddle said. “I do not want to hear him talking about poofs and pricks around me—I don’t believe I’ve said anything funny, Johnathan, why are you snickering?” Mr. Riddle looked at the middle McMann child, who went quiet immediately. “I do not care if you decide to speak to each other using as much profanity or colorful language as you can muster. However, until you are told otherwise, when my son is around, those words will not leave your lips. Or else…”

He let his threat hang in the air, waiting for one of the brothers to ask him. He was not disappointed as the eldest, Shawn, asked, “or else what?”

“Or else, I will personally make sure that Harry never sees any of you again,” Mr. Riddle said.

“No!” Logan said immediately. “You can’t do that, sir!”

“Then keep your tongues while my son is around,” Mr. Riddle said simply. “That is all.” The six muggle boys nodded as Mr. Riddle leaned back. He looked back at Mr. and Mrs. McMann and said, “Well, if we are all understanding each other, I will take my leave. Goodbye.” He stood and left the kitchen. A second later, the sound of a door opened than closed again.

The McMann boys all turned to Mr. McMann, shocked that Mr. Riddle thoroughly talked him in his place. The man looked at the boys, an annoyed expression on his face. “What’re you looking at? Go back to bed, the lot of you!”

 

Harry’s final month before Hogwarts went by fasts. Too fast, in both Harry’s and Logan’s opinion. The last two weeks, they’ve spent all their time together, fantasizing what Harry is going to learn at Hogwarts. Logan thought it would be cool to learn to shoot fireballs and control lightning while Harry, having a little better idea of what magic he can do, was really excited to learn how to transfigure things. He couldn’t wait to be able to show off to Logan!

When September 1st came, Harry again woke up early. He dressed in his best muggle clothes, and was practically jumpy as he waited for his Daddy at breakfast. When the man came down, he chuckled at the sight. “I knew you would be up before me,” he said, sitting down. With a snap of his fingers, house-elves appeared and set breakfast on the table.

“I just can’t wait to go to Hogwarts,” Harry smiled.

“Is everything packed?” Voldemort asked.

“Yes Daddy,” Harry said. “My trunk is packed and ready.”

“Good,” Voldemort said.

“I’ll write an owl to you as soon as I get into Slytherin,” Harry smiled. He looked at his Daddy and frowned. “Dad? Are you going to be okay?”

“With what?”

“Being alone,” Harry frowned.

Voldemort shrugged. “Do not worry yourself, Harry, I will be fine.”

“But Dad—”

“No, stop,” Voldemort said shortly. “Do not worry about me, Harry, just focus on yourself.”

Harry frowned, but said nothing, deciding to leave the subject alone. The two finished their breakfast, and Voldemort checked the time. He snapped his fingers and an elf appeared. “Bring Harry’s trunk and belongings to the front room,” he said.

The elf bowed and disappeared with a loud crack. Ten minutes later found the Riddles in the front room, Harry’s large trunk by the small boy’s side, a caged black owl named Arc hooting on top of it. “Do you have your ticket?” Voldemort asked.

“Yes Daddy,” Harry said, and he pulled out the ticket. “But Dad, I never heard of Platform nine and three quarters. You sure it’s right?”

“Of course, it is, now come on,” Voldemort said.

“How are we getting there?” Harry asked.

“We first have to go to King’s Cross,” Voldemort said. “It will be dangerous to Apparate there, both because of your luggage and the large amounts of muggles.”

“Then how about using the Floo Network?” Harry asked, but Voldemort shook his head again.

“That would be dangerous with your luggage. We don’t want it to accidently go out the wrong fireplace,” Voldemort said.

“No we don’t,” Harry said.

“So instead, we will take a more… muggle way, though I very much loathe it so,” Voldemort said, taking Harry’s luggage. Confused, the boy followed his Daddy outside. Expecting to see a taxi, Harry was surprised to see that the road that led to their manor was, like usually, empty. Voldemort pulled out his wand and stuck it into the air. There was a very loud bang, and Harry jumped in surprise as a very large dark blue bus stopped in front of them. “The Knight Bus,” Voldemort muttered, looking sorely disappointed. _I must ask Malfoy how he gets to Platform nine and three quarters after I drop Harry off,_ the Dark Lord thought to himself.

He lugged the luggage onto the bus, “King’s Cross,” he simply said to the driver. Harry looked around at the interior of the bus. It was much bigger on the inside then the outside. There were various seating from wooden chairs to long couches, none seemed bolted down and there was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Most of the seating were full, witches and wizards with their children, luggage tucked as best as they could under the chairs.

Harry’s Daddy was grumbling to himself, as he led Harry to a couch, both sitting down. “Hold onto your owl, Harry,” Voldemort said. “This will be a quick, but uncomfortable, ride.”

Harry nodded and held onto the cage tightly as the Knight Bus started with a loud bang. Immediately the seating seemed to start sliding around, trunks smashing against each other as couches and chairs swerve right or left along with the driver’s reckless driving. Harry looked up at his Daddy to see the man holding an intense scowl, his hands curled tightly and a murderous glint in his eyes. Harry laughed at it.

Ten minutes later, the bus banged to a stop in front of King’s Cross station. Harry and Voldemort joined the other parents and children off of the bus, the Dark Lord looking extremely pleased to be off of the bus. “That was fun,” Harry smiled, earing him a hard look from his father.

They went inside the train station, and Voldemort checked his watch, frowning. “That took too long,” he said. “Come along Harry.”

They walked deeper into the station and the two heard a voice saying, “—They do this every year, packed with muggles of course—”

The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of them—and they had an owl.

Voldemort frowned. “As if our secrecy meant nothing,” he sighed. “Might as well follow them and let them go first…” He looked at the plump woman and frowned. Harry saw this. “What’s the matter, Daddy?”

“Pretty sure I’ve fought her during the war… oh well, nothing Harry, hurry along,” Voldemort said and the two followed the family of redheads. “Alright Percy, you first,” the woman said when they reached the divider between platforms nine and ten. A large swarm of tourist came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

“Just walk through the barrier,” Voldemort whispered to Harry, who nodded. He started pushing his cart, but Voldemort stopped him. “Wait until they’re done, Harry!” he said a bit loudly, getting the redheads’ attention.

“Sorry,” the plump woman said.

“Nothing to worry,” Mr. Riddle said smoothly. “My son is just excited to get to Hogwarts.”

“Oh, Ron’s new too,” the plump woman said, pointing to her youngest son. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. “If he wants, he can go first—does he knows how to go?”

“Yes, I’ve just told him, of course I will be right behind,” Voldemort said, giving the plump woman a charming smile. Harry mirrored it.

“Oh, all right,” the plump woman said. She looked at Harry and gave a motherly smile, “No need to be nervous dear.”

Harry nodded and felt his Daddy’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” the man said. The two walked briskly towards the barrier. For a moment, Harry thought they were going to crash, but his father kept pushing him towards the barrier. They were getting closer and closer until—they walked right through it.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier has been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it.

“Come along, Harry,” Voldemort said as the rest of the redheads started to go through the barrier. Harry stared at the train, which was already packed with students, as Voldemort searched the crowd. Harry looked at Voldemort, and asked, “Who are you looking for?”

“Malfoy,” Voldemort said. “I need to have an… adult conversation with the man.”

“Oh… can I listen?” Harry asked.

“No Harry, it would be better if you do not,” Voldemort said. He stopped for a moment, seeing a head of platinum blond. “There he is. Harry, why don’t you find a compartment? I’ll find you once my talk is done.”

“Okay Daddy,” Harry said. The two separated, Harry taking his trolley while the man walked deep into the crowd. Harry watched for a moment until the platinum-blond man turned to Voldemort, paling dramatically. Harry couldn’t help but smirk at that, he loved seeing people’s reactions to his Daddy. Smiling to himself, he pushed on, searching for an empty compartment.

He found one near the end of the train. He put Arc inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

“Want a hand?” It was one of the red-heads he and Daddy followed through the barrier.

“Yes, please,” Harry panted.

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

An identical red-head ran over. _Twins_ , Harry thought. With their help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, he pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“What’s that?” one of the twins said suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar. The other was just blushing.

“Blimey… are you—?”

“He is,” the first one said. “You are, right?” he added to Harry.

“Harry Potter,” chorused the twins. “Heard all about you! Stories how you and You-Know-Who disappeared, you having a scar on your head,” the second one said.

Harry frowned. “Yes, but— my last name is Riddle now.”

The two twins gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating through the train’s open door.

“Fred? George? Are you there?”

“Coming, Mum.”

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train. Harry did too, waiting for his Daddy who came a moment later. “Who were they?” Voldemort asked.

“Fred and George,” Harry said. “They helped me with my luggage… and found out that I’m Harry Potter.”

“I see… well, hopefully they will not pester you about it,” Voldemort said.

Harry nodded. “How was your talk with Mr. Malfoy?” he asked.

“Good. I’ve had to remind him about a couple of things, but I think they’ve sunk in,” Voldemort said. Harry nodded. He looked at the train anxiously. “Harry… come here,” Voldemort said. Harry step forward, and gave a gasp as Voldemort knelt down to hug him. “Be good, Harry. Don’t listen, or care about any rumors flying around about you. You are, and will always be, my son. And I am so proud of you.”

“Daddy…”

“Don’t be afraid Harry, we’ll be together soon enough,” Voldemort said.

“I love you Daddy,” Harry said into the hug.

“I love you too, Harry,” Voldemort said. “You’ve done more for me these past ten years than I’ve ever done for you. Now, get on that train, and show Dumbledore and the world how good of a father I am.” Voldemort smirked, and Harry nodded. He kissed Voldemort’s cheek and got into the compartment. He waved enthusiastically to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord returned the wave, before turning to leave. He stopped for a moment, listening to how the twin of redheads saw his son, before the mother forbidding them to ask him about “You-Know-Who.” Walking away from that family, he caught one more look at Malfoy and stopped, staring at him. The Malfoy patriarch froze, feeling as if someone was staring at him, and paled as he turned and met Voldemort’s eyes. Quickly searching Malfoy’s mind, breaking the pathetic barrier, he barely put up, the Dark Lord smirked as he obtained the required information, and disappeared with a step just as the train began to move.


	10. Expressive Sorting

Ch. 10

Expressive Sorting

The door to Harry’s compartment opened. “So, it’s true, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”

Harry looked from the window to the door. Standing in the open doorway was the same platinum-blond haired boy from Diagon Alley. Behind him were two trollish looking boys who looked as if they shared half a brain. Without asking, the three walked in and sat down; the blonde kid being the definite leader. Harry stared at them for a moment, remembering the blonde’s last name from Daddy, then looked back at the window. “I didn’t give you permission to sit,” he said.

He smiled to himself as he saw the blonde boy starting to get annoyed. “Listen, Potter, you’ll find out very quickly that there are certain people you shouldn’t associate yourself with,” he began but Harry interrupted him.

“And which one are you, Malfoy?” he turned and smiled at them. “Yes, I know your name. Your father used to work for my Daddy, but now you’ve made my Daddy mad. Do you remember that?” Harry made sure his face was as cute and innocent as possible as he smiled at Draco and the two trolls. “You made fun of me and Daddy because your father didn’t teach you any manners. But don’t worry, Daddy will make sure your father learns your lesson just as I will make sure you learn yours. After all, my Daddy wants me to be the best Dark Wizard I can be. And we can’t go disappointing the Dark Lord, can we?”

All three children’s faces paled. Harry smiled at that.

“That man… he was…”

“The Dark Lord? Yeah, but more importantly he’s the man who raised me,” Harry said. He stared at their faces for a moment. Malfoy looked almost like marble, his face seemingly drained of any blood as he stared at Harry, both scared and something else that Harry couldn’t identify. The two trolls were just scared. Harry stretched in his seat. “One more thing,” he sighed. “My name is Harry Riddle. So please, don’t call me Potter.”

Harry pulled out a book from one of his inside pockets. It was a rather small book that Logan’s mom suggested to him after she overheard Harry gushing about Merlin and Morgan Le Fay to Logan. It was a children’s version of the Story of King Arthur. He read in silence as the three sitting across of him slowly recovered from shock. He stopped in the middle of the page and looked up at them. “Do you collect chocolate frog cards? You look like the type who do,” he said to the two trolls. “Or, at the very least, the types who eat chocolate frogs daily.”

They did not reply, their faces only looking half a pale and looking rather dumb-struck. Malfoy, however, was just staring at Harry. Harry frowned. “You know, conversations work both ways,” he said. “I never had any problems talking with Logan or his brothers, and they’re muggles! Do you not know how to hold a talk or something?”

That seemingly snapped the three out of their stupor. “Muggles? You talk to muggles?” Malfoy sneered.

“Of course, who else was I going to talk to? The thick snake hates me,” Harry shrugged. “I met Logan at school, he’s my best friend. I had to pester Daddy to go there, but I won obviously, and now Daddy… well he accepts Logan. We can do anything together and Daddy doesn’t get too mad.”

Malfoy’s eyes flickered. “Harry, Harry, you really should be more careful about who you pick as friends. I mean, what if this Logan talks about you being a wizard? Then you’ll be in all sorts of trouble.”

“He knew since I was seven,” Harry said. “If he was going to talk about it, he would have done so already,” Harry shrugged. He smiled at Malfoy. “If you want to be my friend, Malfoy, you just have to ask. No need trying to be sneaky about it.”

Malfoy stared at the cute boy for a moment. For some reason his cheeks began feeling red. “Very well then, will you be my friend?” Malfoy asked.

“No,” Harry hummed.

“Excuse me!”

“I want you to apologize first,” Harry said sweetly. “You insulted my best friend. I don’t like that. So, if you want to be my friend, I want you say ‘Harry Riddle, I am sorry for insulting your best friend.’”

Malfoy looked more annoyed than ever. Harry guessed that he was a boy who was never told ‘no’ before. He waited patiently as the boy in front of him fought with the growing annoyance and ego inside. Finally, Malfoy looked at him and said sourly, “Fine. ‘Harry Riddle, I am sorry for insulting your best friend.’ …Happy?”

“Definitely,” Harry smiled. “Now, I will be your friend.” He stood up and squished himself between Malfoy and one of the two trolls. Malfoy glared at him confused, but Harry shrugged. “This is how I sit with Logan. He loves it when I sit on him… you don’t want a muggle to beat you being my friend, don’t you?”

Malfoy said nothing. Harry chuckled and moved back to his seat, smiling at the three. “Shame… you know, if I was with Logan and his brothers, they would practically _fight_ to see whose lap I’ll sit on. Though Daddy doesn’t have to know about that,” he said. He smiled at their confused looks. “I’m kidding! God do purebloods not know how to take a joke?”

He sighed and shook his head.

Malfoy continued to stare at him. His look of shock turned into an angry annoyance. “There is no way,” he snarled softly, “that you, Potter, are the Dark Lord’s son.”

Harry’s smile disappeared in an instant. His eyes narrowed, and his face lost any happiness or joy as it became icy cold, if not cruel. “Get out,” he said. Though it was not his own voice. It was an icy high voice that did not fit the boy. The three boys did not move. “Get. Out.” Harry stressed, and the two trollish looking kids ran out while Malfoy stayed. The two boys stared at each other, Malfoy looking obviously scared, but wanting to put up a good front while Harry did his best to keep the cruel face on. They sat there, just staring at each other. Harry did not know why they were doing that, he just felt like he couldn’t look away from Malfoy. He felt that, in that moment, if he looked away, he would lose to Malfoy.

And he did not want that.

So they stared at each other.

And stared.

And stared.

Stared.

Their faces relaxed into an expressionless position, Harry’s eyes started to strain as he stared at Malfoy. Noticing the way the boy fashioned his platinum blonde hair, the way his steel-gray eyes flickered in the afternoon light, his nose that looked a little too long…

Then he blinked.

Malfoy couldn’t help but smirk. He stood up and offered his hand. “Draco Malfoy,” he said.

Harry looked at the hand and took it. “Harry Riddle,” he smiled.

“I will see you in Slytherin, Harry Riddle,” Draco smirked.

“Likewise,” Harry said. They stared at each other for a moment, holding each other’s hand. Then, Draco let go and Harry let his hand fall to his lap. The blond turned, and left the compartment, leaving Harry alone again.

Harry smiled to himself as he pulled out his small book again. It looks like he already made his first friend at Hogwarts. _I wonder how Daddy would react, knowing I already made friends with a Malfoy,_ Harry thought to himself. _Maybe he’ll go easy on Mr. Malfoy… nah._

He was left alone for most of the rest of the ride, which Harry didn’t mind much. He supposed he’ll just meet the other kids at Hogwarts. At some point the lunch trolley came and Harry took full advantage, getting as much candy as he could. He reminded himself, as he ate his fourth chocolate frog, to find some of the sweets to bring home with him to show Logan.

For some reason, Harry thought that he was going to have more visitors. After all, those twins and Draco Malfoy recognized him as Harry Potter. He guessed he was famous for supposedly “killing” his Daddy, which made the boy laugh as he thought about it. He loved his Daddy. He loved his Daddy very much. Why would he want to hurt him? If not outright kill the man? It just made no sense to Harry.

Outside it was getting darker, so Harry changed into his robes and before he knew it, before he was really ready, the train slowed to a stop in a small station. He joined the crowd that pushed their way toward the door and out onto the tiny station. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a booming voice: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

Slipping and stumbling, the first years headed towards the owner of the voice. He was vast and big, looking like the size of two men wearing a moleskin jacket and having grizzly black hair and beard that somewhat hid a cheery face. The man led them down a narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there.

Suddenly, they turned a corner and there was a loud “Ooooooh!”

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” the man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry got into the closest boat, followed by Malfoy and the two trolls.

“Everyone in?” the man shouted, who had a boat to himself. “Right then—FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the like, which was as smooth as glass.

“By the way,” Draco Malfoy said. “This is Crabbe, and Goyle.”

Harry hummed and looked at the two trolls. “I don’t care,” he said.

The boats carried them towards the cliffside of the castle, into a wide opening hidden by ivy where they departed onto a small harbor. The man, whom Draco sneered as “Hagrid,” made sure that everyone had everything before he led them up a set of stairs towards a large oak front door. He raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

It opened, revealing a tall, black-haired witch with emerald green robes. She had a very stern face, and Harry’s first thought was that she was not someone to mess around with.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid said.

“Thank you, Hagrid, I’ll take them from here.” She pulled the door open wide. The entrance hall was so big Harry felt you could fit all of Logan’s house into it and still have room. The stone ceiling was too high to make out as the stone walls were lit with torches.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to their right—but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said. “The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the House Cup, a great honor.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

Harry looked over himself, made sure that his robes were straight, his hair wasn’t sticking too much at odd ends (Logan’s oldest brother, Shawn, liked to tease that Harry always looked as if he just rolled in the hay… whatever that means), and that his glasses weren’t crooked.

Professor McGonagall came back a moment later and instructed the first years to form a line. Harry squeezed himself between two tall boys, one of them having red hair while the other was dark skinned and short black hair. Harry looked at the red haired one, before recognizing him. “You’re Ron,” he stated.

“Umm—”

“Your brothers helped me get my luggage on the cart, and your mum and allowed me and my Dad to go before you through the corridor,” Harry said. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No problem,” the red head said, now recognizing the boy. “I’m Ron, Ron Weasley.”

“Harry Riddle,” Harry said and they shook hands.

“Riddle? But my brothers told me—”

“That’s me,” Harry said quickly, “but my last name is Riddle. After my Dad.”

“Ohh, I see,” Ron nodded. Harry liked him immediately. Unlike Draco, Ron just accepted that his last name was now Riddle.

The Great Hall was a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands of floating candles that floated over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Harry wondered what they had to do with the hat when the strangest thing happened. The brim of the hat ripped, as if forming a mouth, and the hat began to sing.

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and became still again. Professor McGonagall stepped up holding a long scroll of parchment. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stood to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause—

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Brocklehurst, Mandy!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“Brown, Lavender!”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Bulstrode, Millicent!”

“SLYTHERIN!”

And so it went on as the first years went up one by one to get sorted. When it was Draco Malfoy’s turn, the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren’t many people left now.

“Moon” …”Nott” … “Parkinson” … then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil” … then “Perks, Sally-Anne” and then, at last—

“Riddle, Harry!”

There were whispers as the students stared at him.

“Doesn’t she mean Harry Potter?”

“I heard he’s Harry Potter.”

“Is that really Harry _Potter_?”

Harry stepped forward and sat on the stool. He placed the hat on for not even a second before it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

There were some cheers from the Slytherin table, though, for some reason Harry couldn’t tell, the Gryffindor table and other tables looked slightly defeated. Harry frowned and looked at the three first years still need to be sorted, giving Ron an encouraging smile.

Malfoy left a space free for him. “Why did you smile at Weasley?” he asked.

“Because he looks nervous,” Harry hummed. “Besides, he seems nice, and his brothers are helpful.”

“Nice? Those muggle-lovers,” Draco scoffed.

Harry gave him a sharp glare before looking back at the sorting. He clapped along with Gryffindor as Ron was sorted into that, and he also clapped politely with the rest of the Slytherins when the last kid to be sorted, the tall black boy who was in front of Harry named Blaise Zabini, got into Slytherin.

“Also,” Harry said as Dumbledore stood up. “He did not exactly hang on the detail of my last name… Malfoy.” He turned to Blaise Zabini, who was sitting across of him, and smiled, extending his hand. “Hello, I’m Harry Riddle,” he said.

“Hello Harry, I’m Blaise Zabini,” Zabini said, shaking his hand. “I see you met Draco.”

“Unfortunately,” Harry sighed. “Would you believe the first time I met him, he made fun of me and my Daddy?”

“He did?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds like Draco,” he chuckled.

Draco gave Blaise a sharp look.

“So, Harry,” Blaise went on. “Where were you hiding?”

“What?”

“Where were you hiding?” Blaise asked.

“I wasn’t hiding… I was living with Daddy,” Harry said.

“Daddy?” Blaise repeated.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, my dad,” he said. “You know…”

“The Zabinis were neutral cowards,” Malfoy drawled. He looked at Blaise and said, “You-Know-Who raised Harry.”

“O-Ohh,” the boy said as he looked at Harry again, who was frowning at Malfoy. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to be so open,” Zabini said.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Can you not?” he asked both of them. “Who cares who my Daddy was… now he’s just my Dad. So please, don’t try and act different just because Lord Voldemort is my dad.”

The two gave huge gasped and jumped in their seats. Harry frowned at that. “Honestly,” he muttered before looking at the food that now appeared in front of them. The food was amazingly spectacular. Harry couldn’t help but moan a few times as flavor burst onto his tongue with each bite. His house-elves wished they could cook like this. During the feast, he made small talk with Blaise, smiling and laughing at the jokes Blaise told him while making the Zabini laugh hard at the fun Harry had with Logan and his brothers. Draco was giving them weird stares, but Harry didn’t mind. If the Malfoy wanted to be his friend, he had to get over the fact that Lord Voldemort was Harry’s Daddy.

Harry was sleepy when the feast was over. He barely paid attention to Dumbledore’s ending speech, catching something or other about the third-floor corridor being off limits. Before he knew it, Harry was being led with the rest of the first year Slytherins out of the Great Hall and down a set of stairs into the dungeons. Harry just wanted to go to bed. He listened to the prefect rambled about something (Harry was losing interest as his mind turned to comfortable beds and Logan) before said prefect directed them towards their dormitories, which was down another set of stairs.

Harry immediately went into his dormitory, ignoring everyone else, and found his trunk sitting in front of a large four-poster bed with green sheets. Harry bent in front of his trunk and opened it, pulling out two pieces of parchment and a quill. He began writing on a desk nearby.

_Daddy,_

_I’m in Slytherin. The hat barely touched my head before calling out “SLYTHERIN!” Malfoy is also in Slytherin, as well as two trollish looking boys named Goyle and Crabbe. Did their dads work for you? Because it seemed like they did. Also I met a boy named Blaise Zabini. He seems nice, and he was the only one who didn’t insult Logan when I talked about him. Draco Malfoy did. For some reason, everybody knows me as Harry Potter. Do you know why? They’re talking about stories about me and you but I don’t know any of them, or how they started. Do you?_

_Anyway, I know it hasn’t already been a day but I missed you, Daddy. It’s going to be weird sleeping away from you. But I’m still more worried about you. Please don’t stay home by yourself all day, every day! You already went outside with me, so do it some more on your own! Talk to people, scare your old followers—just do something! For me? Please? I don’t want to picture you sitting home alone with only the snakes as company._

_Also, I know it might annoy you but I don’t think Mr. McMann would appreciate owls flying to his home every week or so, so can you please give Logan my letter? AND DO NOT READ IT PLEASE! It’s supposed to stay secret between me and Logan, okay?_

_I love you Daddy!_

_Love,_

_Harry_

Smiling to himself, Harry wrote the second letter

_Logan,_

_I have a lot to tell you! First off, the candy here is amazing! Inside the letter is a chocolate frog. Yes, frog. As in the candy is shaped like a frog and will hop around. It is delicious! And it comes with a Famous Witch and Wizards Card! So far I have Morgan le Fay, Merlin, Andros the Invincible, and Newt Scamander (the guy who wrote that textbook I showed you,_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _). The chocolate is very good, but I like your guys’ chocolate better. Especially with the special sauce you use._

_Anyway, I got sorted into Slytherin, the House that Daddy was in, and my housemates are… interesting. One of them is a straight up prick. His name is Draco Malfoy and I swear he acts like he has a stick shoved way up his bum. He has a big ego, and thinks that he’s better than you just because, well, he’s a wizard when in reality, he’s just a prat. Honestly, he’s insufferable! And don’t get me started on Crabbe and Goyle, those two trolls are the ugliest human beings I have ever met, if they somehow start dating, then their dates must either be blind or equally as ugly. Blaise Zabini is nice though. He’s this tall handsome boy who didn’t give a fig (am I using this correctly?) that you’re my best friend! There’s also Ron, though I barely talked to him but he reminds me of you and your brothers. Nice red hair, freckles.. He has these twin brothers, and they were helpful and seemed very nice. Though they’re in a different house than I am, Gryffindor. I hope we share the same classes together, so I can talk with him more._

_Strange as it is, I really miss you Logan. I should have stolen some of your clothes the last time I was over just, so I can have some “regular” clothes as you call it. I mean, I love my robes, they look very nice, but I would at least like a tee to wear under them, or maybe some jeans? Please don’t show this letter to your brothers or they’ll think I’m weird and send me your underwear or something!_

_Anyway, I think my dormitory is under a lake, there’s this huge black lake here, and by the sounds of it we’re either under it or in it! I don’t know… but it’s slightly eerie and cool at the same time._

_I’ll keep you updated on the prick Malfoy, and others. I think I saw a cow walking with us towards the dormitory, though maybe she’s just a girl, I can’t really tell the difference she was so huge! Like massively huge! Is it weird that I’m paying more attention to the boys than the girls?_

_Oh well. I will see you and your brothers during Christmas though, so make sure to make some special chocolate for me!_

_Love,_

_Harry_


	11. The Professors

Chapter 11

The Professors

The first thing Harry did the next morning was head up to the Great Hall and look for the Weasley Twins. Some of the Gryffindors gave the boy weird looks, wondering why he was on their side, but the boy ignored them. Instead, he found Fred and George sitting with a friend of theirs, and smiled. “Fred! George!”

The two turned to look at Harry. “Hello Po—I mean Harry,” Fred said.

“Whatcha doin’ over here?” George asked.

“I actually want to ask you some things, if you don’t mind,” Harry said sweetly, giving them a comforting, innocent smile. “Do you mind if I sit with you two?”

“Course not!” Fred said a little too quickly. The twins made room for Harry, who slipped between them. “Harry, this is our best mate Lee Jordan,” George said, introducing a black boy, who shook Harry’s hand. “We were just telling him about some stuff we got over the summer.”

“Hello,” Harry smiled. “Um Fred… George… I just want to ask you some things.”

“What is it?”

“Well… you two knew that I’m Harry Potter just by my scar,” Harry said. “How is that? Only Daddy and my friends at home know about it, and my friends are all muggles and, well, Daddy’s a bit of a recluse.” Harry frowned a bit. “I know that Daddy wouldn’t ever tell anyone about my scar… so how did you hear about it?”

“What? You mean how we heard about your disappearance from that night when You—”

“Fred! We promised Mum not to tell—”

“It’s okay,” Harry said. He moved so he was closer to Fred. “Daddy told me all about that night my mum and dad died… and about Lord Voldemort—” The twins gave a shriek and jumped scared while Lee Jorden looked as if he was going to fall off his bench—“sorry! I mean You-Know-Who,” Harry said quickly.

“It’s… it’s alright Harry,” Fred said. “Well… let’s think… it’s weird, we’ve grown up with tales about you, yeah? Your house being destroyed and your body missing. It wasn’t until like… I don’t know, four years ago that news that you’re living spread like wildfire and that you have that scar… which, may I add, looks very nice on your forehead.” Fred smiled awkwardly.

“Four years ago…” Harry said to himself. “When I was seven?”

Fred shrugged. “I guess so,” he said.

Harry frowned. “Who told you these stories, Fred?”

“Well Dad mostly, he told us what he heard in the Ministry,” Fred said.

Harry nodded. “Thanks… do you mind if I tell my Daddy?”

“Go ahead,” Fred said, his awkward smile turning into something else. Harry returned the smile and stood up. “Thank you Fred, George,” he said, and he returned to the Slytherin table, sitting next to Blaise Zabini.

“What was that about?” Zabini asked.

“Just needed to ask them something—got a quill I can borrow?”

Blaise gave him a quill, and Harry wrote a quick note. When he was done, Draco was sitting next to him. “Good morning, Harry,” Draco said.

Harry looked over at Draco and regarded him for a moment before saying, “How did you know about me? Who told you?”

“My father did,” Malfoy said.

“And who told him?”

“He found out from the Ministry—look Potte—er Riddle, it’s pointless, stop worrying about it,” Draco shrugged.

“Stop worrying? As if,” Harry snorted. “You try to not worry when the whole wizarding world knows your name and scar on your forehead.”

Malfoy just rolled his eyes. Harry gave an annoyed sigh and turned towards Blaise. “Blaise,” he said, “how did you find out about me? Who told your parents—”

“Parent,” Blaise said. “Only have a mother. “And like Draco said, she found out through other people—Draco’s mother in fact if I recall correctly. So I’m guessing that someone told someone in the Ministry and it spread, or maybe a person from the Ministry saw you directly.”

“So either way, the Ministry of Magic knew about me?” Harry frowned.

“Seems like it,” Blaise shrugged.

“Why does it matter now? You’re at Hogwarts, people were going to find out about you eventually,” Malfoy said. Harry gave him a sharp look.

“I lived with my Daddy all my life. I didn’t openly see anyone else until I was seven when I bullied my Daddy to allow me to go to school. Whenever we had to go outside, Daddy would make sure that I always had my head down, and that was a last resort if we could prevent it. So sorry Malfoy that I am concern about who told the entire world about me when I was only actively in it for four years!” Harry said hotly.

Malfoy, surprisingly, looked a little apologetic. “Sorry Po—Harry,” he said.

Harry just made a noise. More Slytherins crowded around them now. Harry looked around and found the cow-looking girl, as well as a girl that looked like a pug. Without thinking to filter himself, Harry said, “So do Slytherin girls normally look like cattle, or are they the exception?”

Draco and Blaise started choking on air. “Ha—Harry!” Draco coughed.

“You can’t talk like that!” Blaise said.

“Why not? Look at them,” Harry said. “They’re like animals!” Harry pointed to the two girls.

“Harry… does um… does your father know that you—”

“Talk like this? Nope,” Harry said. He looked at Draco and gave him a childlike smile, “Logan and his brothers teach me the best things,” he said. “Though, of course, Daddy doesn’t know any of it. To him, I’m just his innocent son who loves his Daddy very much, which I am. I love my Daddy more than anything in the world. However, that doesn’t mean I tell him everything. Shawn taught me how to spot a dog or cow when I see one, and there they are.” Again, he pointed at the two first year Slytherin girls.

Both Blaise and Draco shared a sort of horrified look as Harry began eating his breakfast. What sort of life had he been living? Their thoughts were quickly dashed away as Professor Snape stood up along with the other Heads of Houses, and began handing out their schedules.

The classes in Hogwarts were different from what Harry expected. Every Wednesday at midnight he had to go and study the night skies with his telescope and learn the names of different stars and the movement of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology with Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns. They did not go over any dark wizards or wars or interesting stuff like that. Instead Harry had to fight sleep as he tried to learn goblin names like Gobbligook or Goblegook… though Harry wasn’t sure if those were goblin names or just gibberish he heard in his mostly-asleep mind.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached Harry’s name on the first day of class, he gave a little squeak of excitement and fell out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry was right to think she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Harry surprised everyone on getting the most progress on his fifteenth time; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a joke. He was skiddish and could barely go through a sentence without falling over it. Harry thought this would be the perfect class to talk with Ron, but Draco and Blaise practically escorted him to a table at the beginning of class. Harry was more than relieved to get out of the class, only to see that Ron was nowhere in sight. Which was sad, really. He wanted to befriend all Weasleys.

 

Voldemort wasn’t surprised when their owl, Arc, arrived holding three letters. Two of them looked to have been written at the same time, while the other seemed to be added on either a day later. Voldemort took the two letters addressed to him, and read them. He opened the bigger one first, making a small mental note to himself that Harry had also written to Logan. He was glad to see that his son had gotten into Slytherin, and it amused him slightly at Harry’s choice of description for the sons of Crabbe and Goyle. All in all, Voldemort was pleased to see Harry, apparently, already making friends, but a small twinge of guilt and annoyance surged through him as he read Harry’s request for the man to not become a recluse. _Still in Hogwarts, and all he worries about is me,_ Voldemort thought for himself. It’s true that Voldemort would rather stay at home with the snakes than bother with the muggles outside… and that that was enough socialization for the man, but to Harry the snakes do not count enough. _I suppose I could give Malfoy a visit,_ he thought. _Though… I have to wonder, how is it that everyone knows my son as Potter?_

He began reading the second letter immediately, and saw that Harry was having similar worries about his fame. _If the Weasleys heard from the Ministry, then a visit to Malfoy is only inevitable,_ Voldemort thought. _But first… I have to play Harry’s mailman._

Grumbling to himself at the torture of having to deal with Mr. McMann and his spawn, Voldemort dressed in a fashionable suit, a striking purple color, and headed out the door with letter in hand. It took the man half an hour to walk to the home of the McManns, but after some silent spells, he remained sweat-free, and suit nicely crisp and proper. It might be smugly petty of him, but Mr. Riddle liked making sure that he always looked better than anyone else when he is forced to venture outside. And it was always easy to look better than the hulkish Mr. McMann.

Today it was Shawn who answered the door. “Mr. Riddle! What are you doing here? We never thought you would be buying chocolate… the store’s that—”

“I have a letter for your brother from Harry,” Mr. Riddle said. “I trust if I leave it with you, you _will keep it sealed_ until your brother comes home from school?”

“Y-Yes sir!” Shawn stuttered. Mr. Riddle gave a cold smile.

“Good. … Also, I would like a box of your finest chocolate to be made for Harry—don’t look so shock, of course I knew that he comes here to eat chocolate,” Mr. Riddle drawled. “I would like it ready by Thursday so that Harry can have it for the weekend. If you have any messages or wishes, you may add them to the package.”

“Alright sir… this is very strange, people don’t normally go to our home to make an order—”

“I will give you double the cost if you make sure your father does not touch any of Harry’s chocolates with his disgusting grubby hands,” Mr. Riddle said.

“Yes sir!” Shawn said, suddenly very enthusiastic at the thought of money.

“Good. And remember, Mr. McMann… _do not open that letter_.”

“I won’t sir… goodbye!” Shawn smiled widely. Mr. Riddle gave a small humming noise and turned to leave. He made his way back home and checked on the time. It was around lunch, and he was feeling slightly peckish.

So, without a thought, he apparated directly into Malfoy Manor. Breaking whatever defenses or privacy charms, the family had was laughably easy for the Dark Lord. He appeared directly in the front foyer. House-elves were scrambling to fix the charms Voldemort just broke, but the man did not care. He snapped at one, “Where are your Master and Mistress now?” he asked.

“I-I-In the dining room eating!” the house-elf squeaked.

“Good. Take me to them, and prepare a third plate,” Voldemort said. He did not wait for the elf to finish bowing before starting to walk off towards the dining room. He could sense Mr. Malfoy’s magic, which was pitiful compared to his own. Out of the foyer, Voldemort walked down a corridor until he reached a set of double doors, which he opened himself. To say that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were shocked at his appearance would be putting it lightly. Voldemort ignored their gob smacked looks of fear and shock, both adults petrified in their seats as the Dark Lord walked towards his own. He waved his wand, and a wine glass floated in the air, followed by a bottle of red which opened itself and poured the empty glass full before returning to its original spot as the now full glass floated to Voldemort’s open hand.

“Seeing as how our sons are now dining together in the Great Hall, and rooming together in the Slytherin Dungeons, I have thought that the proper way to celebrate their new _friendship_ was to share a meal,” Voldemort said, sitting down and taking a small sip of his wine. “However, it seems that your son is proving less than satisfactory for my dear Harry, hanging on a point that shouldn’t even exist in the first place. So please inform me Lucius, as it seems that I am at a complete loss, how is it that the entire wizarding community knew that my son was Harry Potter for several years? And that he had a scar for four?”

Both Malfoys were still stunned silent. The Dark Lord waited, he had learned patience from Harry, and his lunch appeared in front of him. He looked between them, and frowned slightly. “Well, Malfoy?” he asked simply.

Finally, Mr. Malfoy seemed to have found his voice. “My Lord…”

“Where exactly in the Ministry did you hear about my son?” Voldemort continued.

“P-Potter, right…. There were rumors everywhere, stories of his triumph and your downfall—”

“And you did not seem to think of bringing it to me at the times these rumors were spreading?” Voldemort asked. “You left myself and my son alone in the dark, forcing us to deal with these stories separated and with little time to prepare.” His voice slowly dipped into a cruel coldness as he stared at the two Malfoys sitting in front of him.

“My Lord they were just rumors… I had no idea—” Lucius’ voice was suddenly gone. Mrs. Malfoy gave a shriek, but stayed in her seat as she looked, petrified at the Dark Lord. Voldemort ignored them for a moment, choosing instead to finally touch his food. The only sounds in the room for a minute was Mr. Malfoy’s silent gagging and Voldemort’s knife and fork scrapping on his plate.

“Rumors,” Voldemort said, taking another sip of his wine, “only lead to more rumors. Some of them can be outright cruel and dangerous. You should have told me the moment you’ve heard about my son’s scar. Or… perhaps… you’ve fallen to some rumors yourself.”

The Dark Lord chuckled darkly as he stared at the two. “You thought that I was dead, both of you,” he stated. “No need to deny it, I will know when you’re lying. It saddens me, Lucius, to see your loyalty waver so. Perhaps you should have gone to Azkaban, stayed a few years in there to prove your loyalty to me… however… I suppose that there is a way for you to redeem yourselves.”

“My Lord—”

“Go fetch the book,” Voldemort said. And he turned his full attention to his wine, which he finished in one long, graceful drink, and his food. He had hoped that it would be an easy and quick task, that Lucius would know where he had left the relic that Lord Voldemort himself have trusted him with. But, unfortunately, the man was slow, too slow, so that by the time he finally returned holding the small black-leathered book, Voldemort was already done with his lunch.

“Pity…” Voldemort said. “To think that my faithful servant had forgotten about me…” He took the diary from Lucius and looked at both of them. “You better hope that your son befriends my dear Harry or else you will face full consequences.”

Voldemort allowed his threat to hang in the air for a moment, taking slight pleasure at the look of horror on the Malfoys’ faces. “When next I see you, Lucius, I hope for you to remember the source of these rumors.”

He left the Malfoys with his threat hanging in the air, seeping into the man’s brain as the Dark Lord took his leave. He figured that for the rest of the week, he was going to prove his son wrong. He wasn’t a recluse. He was a very handsome single father who cared for his son very deeply. So with that in mind, he figured his next stop would be the Ministry of Magic and try to find the source of all these bloody rumors.

 

“Logan! Oi! Logan, you got mail,” Shawn yelled as Logan walked in the door from his first day at school.

Logan looked a little confused, but his confusion went away immediately when he saw who had written to him. “It’s from Harry!” he cheered.

“Yeah, so just take it already,” Shawn muttered. “The Dad came here and scared the shite out of me when giving me the letter.”

“Thanks Shawn,” Logan said, and he took the letter. He ran to his room and closed the door before opening it. The first thing he noticed was a small box falling out. Curious, he placed the box to the side and read Harry’s letter.

He couldn’t help but laugh at his descriptions that Harry made, and glanced at the box. “A chocolate frog?” he said to himself. He momentarily placed the letter down and opened the box. There, looking as if it was ready to pounce, was a piece of chocolate that looked exactly like a small frog. Logan picked it up and made a small scream when the chocolate frog started squirming. “It’s alive!?” He closed his eyes and brought the frog to his mouth, eating it whole. It was good.

Very good.

Logan looked at the Wizarding Card and saw a miniature old man with white hair and beard that seemed to go down to his ankles and the name Albus Dumbledore beneath him. He placed the card to the side and read the rest of Harry’s letter. He chuckled at Harry wanting regular clothes and grimaced slightly at the thought of what his brothers would do. Probably send the boy Logan’s own underwear and panties… Logan had to will away the blush that threatened to creep to his cheeks. He was not supposed to think of his friend in that way! Though, the ending made Logan feel uneasy. He put ‘love’ instead of ‘from.’ Why would he do that?

Though, Harry was right in one regard. There was no way he would allow his brothers to see this.

 

It was Friday, and Harry was going to have his first Potions lessons. He learned some elementary Potions from his father, simple stuff like what ingredient does, and how they should properly be mixed. Daddy mentioned a few poisons he personally used throughout the years but told Harry that he would not be learning how to make them. Potions was taught by a bat-like man who wears all black with sleek oily hair named Professor Snape. He was the Head of Slytherin and for some reason took an instant dislike of Harry.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape started class with a roll call, and paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly. “Harry _Potter_. Our new… _celebrity.”_

When he was finished with roll call, he said, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.” He spoke in barely a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will barely believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldrons with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, betwitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t a big bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

More silence followed this little speech. Harry glanced over at Blaise and Draco, both of whom looked to be completely enraptured by Snape. “Potter!” Snape said suddenly. _That isn’t my last name._ “What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry was shocked for a moment. _I know this,_ he thought. “A sleeping potion?” Harry said questionably.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. “Tut-tut… it seems that fame clearly isn’t everything, is it Potter?”

“Let’s try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“A goat’s stomach,” Harry said. _Or yours. Stop calling me Potter! It’s Riddle!_

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape sneered. _Bull! I got it right!_

It was at that moment that Harry noticed that Hermione Granger had her hand up. _Was it up the entire time? Why didn’t he ask her then._

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry Sir but aren’t they the same plant?” he said.

Snape looked livid. “Think you can be cheeky, Potter?” he snapped. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. _I said all that,_ Harry thought to himself angrily. How bad Harry thought he had it, it was worse, however, for the Gryffindors. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

“You just have to be good at this Harry,” Malfoy whispered smugly at Harry as they were pairs.

“Bull,” was all Harry said. He didn’t really know what the phrase stood for. He knew it wasn’t referring to the animal, that was just obvious to Harry, but still Logan and his brothers kept saying it when people were lying to them or bad things happened so, naturally, the small innocent Harry picked it up. “I’m as good as you are, and he’s criticizing me.”

Malfoy just rolled his eyes as he began to stew his horned slugs when clouds of acid smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. A boy named Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt his partner’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Look at that idiot,” Draco snickered. “Longbottom. Heard of him Harry? I heard that’s he’s barely a wizard. And an idiot on top of that!”

Harry just stared at Malfoy, frowning. “I have a very thick snake that hates me, but I’m sure I can convince him to eat a part of you if you don’t shut it,” he said. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about Longbottom—he could be dreadfully hurt!”

“Who cares?” Draco snorted. His laughter grew as Snape turned to yell at Ronald Weasley. Harry’s frown grew as Ron’s angry face turned to him and Malfoy, who was still snickering to himself.


	12. How Mr. Riddle Gets Information

Ch. 12

How Mr. Riddle Gets Information

There were many characteristics used to describe the Dark Lord. Harry’s favorite were lovable, caring, handsome, and overly protective. Others described the Dark Lord as cruel, evil, murderous, villainous, cold, brutal, and, above all, loveless. They were all true, except for the loveless, however they all have forgotten one very important characteristic of the Dark Lord, stubbornness. The Dark Lord is stubborn, narrow-mindedly so at some points. Which is why he was at the Ministry of Magic, the same place that he once wanted to take over, in order to find out information about a very important subject: How did they figure out about Harry.

It was Friday afternoon, and the Ministry was full of witches and wizards walking about. He figured he’d start with Mr. Weasley. He found the man sitting in a very small office which more resembled a broom closet than an office. There were only two desks pushed against each other, barely enough room for the two occupants, the redheaded man Mr. Riddle assumed as Mr. Weasley, and an aging old man, to move. Mr. Riddle stood outside the broom closet office for some time, examining a very dusty and faded sign that read “Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.”

When it was obvious that the men won’t notice him, Mr. Riddle cleared his throat. Mr. Weasley and the old man with puffy white hair jumped and looked at Mr. Riddle. “Sorry! We did not see you there,” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. “We don’t get much visitors around here, do we Perkins?”

“No we do not,” the old man named Perkins said.

“Indeed… I am Thomas Riddle,” Mr. Riddle said, “your wife helped both me and my son Harry, recently getting onto Platform Nine-and-three quarters. I do not know if she mentioned us to you.”

“So you’re the man who raised Harry Potter?” Mr. Weasley said cheerfully. He did a sort of fumbling dance around his chair in order to get out of it. “Molly told me all about that, he was such a polite boy she told me.” He offered his hand, which Mr. Riddle shook.

“Thank you, and if you do not mind, his last name is Riddle,” Tom said. “Had been ever since I adopted him.”

“Yes, well I’m always happy to help… err, what is it you need helping with exactly?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“I just would like to ask you a few questions,” Mr. Riddle said. “As I have just said, Harry has always gone by my last name, Harry Riddle. He has gone to school as that name both at Hogwarts and his elementary school. However, our community has found out that he is Harry Potter years before he had even gotten his letter from Hogwarts. As you may know, stories of my son circulated for quite some time, and I would like to find the source of it all.”

“You mean you haven’t heard the stories as he was growing up?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“No. For reasons I wish not to discuss, I have kept our ties to the wizarding community strictly limited until Harry has received his letter from Hogwarts,” Mr. Riddle said. “I am simply here to ask you where you heard about the stories for believe me, Harry and I are the only wizards in Little Hangleton, our home.”

“Oh… that’s a hard question,” Mr. Weasley said. He exhaled and looked back at his coworker. “Hey Perkins, remember where we first heard about Harry Potter?”

“No can’t say I have, Arthur. Folks have been talking about him for years,” the old man said.

“Then how about his scar?” Mr. Riddle asked. He placed his hand into his pocket and gripped his wand. Looking as if he was listening intensely, he easily went into Mr. Weasley’s mind as the man was distracted thinking. Ignoring all the memories of his family, which seemed to be an endless sea of red hair, Voldemort searched long back, years into Mr. Weasley’s memory, until he found something interesting. Mr. Weasley was talking to an Auror. Voldemort watched until he heard Harry’s name being mentioned both by the memory and Mr. Weasley himself.

“Ah yeah… now I remember,” Mr. Weasley said. “I was talking to Shaklebolt one day, lovely chap, he told me that he was told that somebody’s relative or friend, I don’t remember which, saw Harry a couple years ago. Looked just like his parents, though he had this scar on his forehead.”

“I see, thank you,” Mr. Riddle said. “I will see myself out. Good day.” He shook both Mr. Weasley’s and Perkins’ hands and left. He made his way next to the Auror Department, only to stop as the elevator gate opened. It was, surprisingly, almost completely empty except for one person: Albus Dumbledore. “Seeing if I’m being a good boy, Dumbledore?” Mr. Riddle sneered as he walked into the elevator.

“What are you doing here, Tom?” Dumbledore demanded. He started reaching for his wand.

“Don’t grab for that, I don’t feel like killing you,” Voldemort said. “I am here to see where the stories of my son Harry started. I am sure you know all about them.”

“Yes… I do.”

“I am off to talk to this Kingsley person after learning about him from Mr. Weasley—don’t look scandalized, I’ve simply talked to him,” Voldemort sighed, looking at the horrified look on Dumbledore’s face.

“What have you done to him?” Dumbledore demanded.

“I have talked to him, simple enough,” Voldemort said. “If you do not believe me, ask the man yourself… come and babysit me for all I care, I just want to find out who exactly talked about my son.”

“Harry Potter—”

“—is my son,” Voldemort said shortly. “I will not allow you to argue with me on that point.” The elevator stopped and the grate opened, a cool female voice saying, “Level 2 Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Mr. Riddle stepped out and, as he expected, Dumbledore followed. “Kingsley was part of your little order,” Mr. Riddle more stated than questioned. “If you would be kind, you might point him out for me.”

Dumbledore still looked at the Dark Lord, completely unconvinced. Mr. Riddle waited for Dumbledore to move, but he did not, so, shaking his head and muttering to himself, Mr. Riddle moved away from Dumbledore and into the Auror’s Department. Dumbledore was on Mr. Riddle’s heels as the man walked around the Auror’s Department, looking from cubicle to cubicle in search for Auror Shaklebolt. Luckily for Mr. Riddle, the Auror found them.

“Ah Dumbledore, didn’t know you were here today,” a deep-voiced man said.

“I had some business in the Ministry Kingsley, and decided to help Mr. Riddle here,” Dumbledore said quickly as Mr. Riddle turned to the Auror and extended his hand.

“You must be Kingsley Shaklebolt,” Mr. Riddle said, “I’ve heard about you from Arthur Weasley.”

“Ahh,” Shaklebolt said, shaking Mr. Riddle’s hand. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask you about my son, Harry Riddle, thought you may know him as Harry Potter,” Mr. Riddle said. Shaklebolt’s eyes widened momentarily, but he just nodded. “I want to know how exactly you found out about my son. We have lived a private life away from the magical world at Little Hangleton, my son only grew up around Muggles, and I know for a fact that we were the only two wizards in town, so please explain to me how stories not only circulated about my son, but his scar, which he obtained from a horrible accident when he was five?”

“Horrible accident?” Dumbledore repeated. Mr. Riddle knew that the old man would never believe him, so he turned and said casually, “The boy had the bright idea to climb the tree in our backyard while I was in the bathroom. Luckily I had a house-elf looking after him.”

“House-elf?” Dumbledore questioned.

“Is it wrong for a single parent to get an elf to help look after his son? It might be indentured servitude to some but who am I to challenge them?” Mr. Riddle asked. He turned back to Shaklebolt and said, “Do you remember where you have heard about my son? It is giving him anxiety.”

Kingsley frowned in thought. Mr. Riddle waited, and a moment later Kingsley looked at Mr. Riddle. “I am not sure if I should tell you this,” he said. “It was just many rumors… a worker of ours has a relative living in Little Hangleton.”

“That’s impossible,” Mr. Riddle said, “Like I said, Harry and I are the only wizards in the town.”

The Auror shook his head, “Not a wizard,” he said, “a Squib.”

“A Squib? That is to be blamed?” Mr. Riddle frowned. “Who is he?”

“Again, I am not sure if I should tell you—”

“Mr. Shaklebolt, that squib have not only invaded my privacy by speaking of my family life, but they have, more importantly, invaded my son’s life. It was not their decision to talk to about Harry and start rumors and stories about him that grew only into high expectations for my boy. I expect you now to tell me who this Squib is, and their family member, or else I will take legal action.”

Both Dumbledore and Shaklebolt frowned. They shared a look and Dumbledore, scared for everyone around him, had to force himself not to warn Shaklebolt that the Dark Lord Voldemort is in front of him. Mr. Riddle waited and said, “Mr. Shaklebolt, the name.”

“Miss Potts,” Kingsley said.

Mr. Riddle thought for a few moments, until finally he muttered, “Yes… her, yes I know her.” He looked up at Kingsley and said, “Thank you Mr. Shaklebolt, I will be on my way now.” And he left.

He reached the elevator when Dumbledore caught up with him. “What are you planning to do Tom?” he demanded.

“I am going to have a talk with Miss. Potts,” The Dark Lord said simply. “Will you stop looking at me as if I am going to kill her? I will not. And if you want to know, the last time I used to Killing Curse was to kill a fox that gotten on my property, and that, Dumbledore, was years ago.”

Dumbledore was still not convinced. “If you attack that Squib, I will stop you, Tom,” he said.

Mr. Riddle laughed. “Stop me from having a conversation? Old man, I am still whole while you are turning frail,” he smirked. “Haven’t you wondered about my appearance? I am seventy years old yet I look and sound to be in my thirties. The Dark Lord you and the wizarding community fear is just a bedtime story.”

“A story that gotten people killed,” Dumbledore said. “You have caused the deaths of hundreds—”

“And do you think I care for them? No, I do not,” Voldemort said coldly. “The only person I care about, Dumbledore, is my son. For you see, I’ve done something you thought impossible, old fool. I’ve learned to love, despite it being a stupid emotion.” Dumbledore, however, still looked unconvinced, but Voldemort did not care. His mind was too focused on Miss. Potts.

They’ve reached the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Riddle ignored the giant fountain that featured a witch and wizard and several magical creatures, he ignored the witches and wizards bustling about, trying to reach their destination, and immediately went to one of the nearest fireplaces. “Riddle Manor!” he called out as he threw down the floo powder, green fire swallowing him whole.

Back home, he made sure that he looked presentable, he switched his robes for a nice suit, and walked outside. He wasn’t surprised to see Dumbledore waiting for him. “You need to learn people can be trusted,” Mr. Riddle said. He did not wait for a reply as he began walking down towards the town, with Dumbledore following him. It was getting to the late afternoon now, and the children were getting out of school. Dumbledore was shocked to see a child looking around Harry’s age run up to the Dark Lord. “Mr. Riddle!” he said.

“Oh, Logan, hello,” Mr. Riddle said politely. “I’m sorry but I am rather busy now—”

“I know sir, but I just want to tell you that I have a package for Harry,” Logan said. “Though I don’t think regular postage gets to his school, does it?”

“No, it does not,” Mr. Riddle said. “I will go to your home later to retrieve it, and have an owl send it over to Harry.”

“An owl?” Logan asked.

“Much faster than your muggle postage,” Mr. Riddle said.

“Alright, I’ll get the box ready,” Logan said, and he ran off. Dumbledore watched the child in confusion.

Mr. Riddle decided to explain, “That was Logan McMann. A muggle. Hideous father, rowdy brothers, but he is Harry’s best friend. Though I have half a mind to remind Harry that they can only be best friends when they turn older. While the boy is nice, I refuse to be related, even through law, to his father.” He did not wait for Dumbledore’s response again as he made his way further into town. Dumbledore followed, his hand close to his wand in case the Dark Lord does something drastic.

They walked for half an hour until they reached a small house with a white-picket fence. It was here that Dumbledore finally said, “Tom, I will not allow you to enter that home.”

Mr. Riddle did not even look at Dumbledore as he opened the fence’s gate and walked inside. Dumbledore quickly pulled out his wand, but Voldemort, being physically younger and fitter, flicked his wand in his pocket, and Dumbledore stumbled and fell onto the sidewalk, unharmed. “For the last time, Dumbledore, I am here to talk with the woman. That is all,” Mr. Riddle said, and he turned around and knocked hard on the door.

Dumbledore got to his feet and made began walking to Voldemort as the door opened up and a woman answered. “Hello?”

“Miss Potts, I assume,” Mr. Riddle said.

“Yes, that’s me, do I know you?” the Squib asked.

“You do,” Mr. Riddle said. “You told the Ministry of Magic that my son is Harry Potter.”

“I—I”

“Please do not bother with lying, Miss Potts, I have lost much of my patience dealing with Dumbledore,” Mr. Riddle said. “Just tell me one thing: Why did you do it?”

Miss Potts bit her lip. She looked between Mr. Riddle and Dumbledore, who was staring hesitantly at Mr. Riddle, before answering, “Well… my sister was talking about Harry Potter, describing what he’s supposed to look like… and it reminded me of your son, so I told her that, only he has that scar thingy on his head, one thing led to another and—well, sorry.”

Mr. Riddle looked at the woman, not feeling any ounce of gratitude or forgiveness. His hand twitched, as if wanting to go for his wand, but he stopped and said, “I will be of course speaking with your principal. If I were you, I would look for a new employment, as well as a new town to live.”

“Y-yes sir… sorry sir, really, I—”

“I don’t care for your sputtering, I only want to see you go away,” Mr. Riddle said. The woman burst out crying and nodded, closing the door. Mr. Riddle sighed and turned to Dumbledore. “There, our business is done, no one is dead, and I would like to return home now.”

Dumbledore still looked unconvinced. “How would I know that you don’t simply return here later?” he asked.

“Why would I? The woman is already moving away,” Voldemort said. “If you expect me to say sorry or feel regret for all those people I killed, don’t, because that will never happen. As I told you before, old man, the only one I care about is Harry. Now, if you excuse me, I have a package to pick up, and some letters to write.”

And he left Dumbledore standing there utterly at a lost. The Dark Lord seemed to have changed, and as much as Dumbledore would like to believe that the man has, and their war is truly over, doubt still logically lingered. It was too early, there were too many variable… for all he knew, the Dark Lord could have just played an act in front of him. No matter how much he wanted to believe it. Feeling more doubtful than ever, Dumbledore returned to the castle. He wanted to make sure that a precious item was more secure than ever.


	13. Harry Gains a Friend and Years Pass

Ch. 13

Harry Gains a Friend and Years Pass

“What do I have to do to show my apology?” Draco Malfoy asked. It was during the weekend after their first week of classes. He, Harry, and the rest of the Slytherin first year boys were at the Slytherin Table in the Great Hall. In front of him was a box and letter that the Dark Lord has sent Harry.

“First apologize to Neville Longbottom, second apologize to Ron Weasley, and thirdly take away that smug attitude if you want to be my friend,” Harry said as he opened the letter. “Oh! The box is from Logan! I hope there’s chocolate in there—Blaise, do you want some of the chocolate? It’s really good, and Logan and his brothers use this secret sauce that their dad doesn’t know about.”

“Sure,” Blaise smiled.

Draco glared at the two of them as Harry opened the box and pulled out a couple of wrapped candy bars. “Logan and his brothers makes the most delicious chocolate,” Harry smiled. “I would kill to have their chocolate every day.” He gave a bar to Blaise and turned back to Draco. “Well? What do you say Malfoy? This is the only chance I’m giving you.”

Draco stared at Harry, as if seriously considering his offer. “Just say sorry?” he repeated.

“Yeah, and you have to promise not to be mean to them,” Harry said. “I will not allow that.”

“Mmm… Draco, you should really try this,” Blaise moaned as he took his fourth bite of the chocolate. “This is really good.”

Draco stared at the two. Harry smiled as if he could see the cogs in his head wheeling around. He leaned forward and whispered, “If you’re scared, don’t be. If I’m your friend, I can promise you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not scared!” Draco scoffed. Harry stood up from their bench at the table and held out his hand to Draco. Giving the boy an innocent smile, he said, “Then prove it. Come on.”

Draco stared at Harry’s hand. It was small, pale, and completely smooth. His fingernails were clean, pink, and on the whole seemed totally innocent just like the boy attached to it. Draco gave a great breath, his entire body shuddering as he stretched out his hand and, with some difficulty as if forcing himself to change his entire persona, took Harry’s hand. A spark flew through him, and he developed a surprising need to protect the boy whose hand he was holding. Harry smiled at him, and the two walked together down the length of Slytherin Table, across the Great Hall, and up the confused-looking Gryffindor table, both boys never letting go of the other’s hand. Neville was nearer, so they stopped at him first.

The boy looked absolutely terrified when they stopped in front of him. “Neville Longbottom,” Harry said sweetly. “Draco has something to say to you…” He looked at Draco expectantly.

Still holding Harry’s hand, Draco took a step forward. Licking his lips, Draco looked back at the son of the Dark Lord, who was staring at him hotly. “Right… Longbottom… during Potions I made fun of you to Harry… and I’m… I’m sorry.”

It felt like spewing out lava, the words were heavy on Draco’s tongue, each syllable a hot, painful bit of lava that quickly cooled and became igneous rocks that weighed heavily on his lips, tongue, and soul. He both hated himself for apologizing at the first place but, after Harry squeezed his hand gently, that hatred and weight disappeared, leaving the boy lighter than before.

Longbottom stared at the two of them, completely lost for words. Draco stood awkwardly in front of him. “Well?” he snapped after a few moments.

“Oh!” Longbottom jumped. “I umm thanks….”

Harry smiled and said, “You’re welcome Neville, however can you do me a favor? Try not to screw up as much, okay?” Neville, completely embarrassed and suddenly taken the cuteness of Harry Riddle, just stammered uselessly and nodded. Harry smiled again and pulled Draco along towards Ron Weasley.

“Ron?” Harry said when he and Draco were standing in front of him.

Ron Weasley, who was sitting with Dean and Seamus, turned to see the two Slytherins standing in front of him. “What do you want?” he demanded.

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry if I somehow offended you… I don’t know what I did to make you mad…”

“You’re with Malfoy—” Ron accused, pointing a finger at Draco and, in that second, Harry examined Ron.

“Yeah, well Malfoy’s a prat and I’m doing my best to make him less of one,” Harry said, dropping his cuteness act. He knew in an instant he needed to be like he is with Logan and his brothers in order to get the result that he wanted. He turned to Draco and said, “Sorry, but it’s true, you are a prat and I’m doing my best to make you less of one.” He turned back to Ron, “that said, I want him to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“For being a twat and a prat,” Harry said. Dean and Seamus snickered at Harry’s outburst. He looked at them and said, “Well it’s true. Again, sorry Draco.” He squeezed Draco’s hand harder. “He already said ‘sorry’ to Longbottom for insulting him to me at Potions. And, well, he laughed at you like the twat he is, so I wanted him to say sorry to you.”

Ron stared at Harry for a moment. “Where’d you learn to talk like this?” he asked. “I thought all Slytherins were pureblood fanatics who act all high and mighty.”

Harry laughed and smiled at Ron. “From my best friend and his brothers,” he said. “I love alone with my Daddy—yes I call him Daddy at eleven, shut up, everyone loves it—well, my best mate is this boy named Logan, met him at school, and he’s the youngest of six brothers—”

“Cool,” Ron interrupted, “I’m the same!”

“You are? That’s interesting,” Harry said, giving Ron a genuine smile. “Anyway, I hang out with them all the time—I can tell you more of the um dirty stories they told me, at least that’s how Logan calls them—but yeah, I learn everything from them, I love them so much. And they make this great chocolate—shoot I should have brought some! They’re at my table!”

“You can always bring some over,” Ron shrugged. “I love chocolate, and I’m sure the others do, right boys?” he turned to Seamus and Dean, who nodded.

Harry smiled, and turned to Draco. “But first… Draco need to apologize.”

Everyone turned to Draco. The blonde gave Harry a glare before turning to Ron. “Weasley,” he gritted out.

“Call him by his full name Draco,” Harry whispered, squeezing Draco’s hand.

“Ron Weasley… I’m sorry…”

“Say ‘sorry for being a prat and a twat,’” Harry whispered. Dean and Seamus chuckled to themselves.

“I am not saying that!”

“Then I will not be your friend,” Harry said and he started to let go of Draco’s hand. Alarmed, Draco squeezed on Harry’s hand almost painfully and said, “Ron Weasley I am sorry for being a prat and a twat!”

The three Gryffindors were stunned silent. The two Slytherins stood, waiting for Ron’s response, Draco looking extremely irritated while Harry had a huge, amused smirk on his face. Finally, after some time, Ron replied with, “Well at least now you said it out loud, it must be true,” and laughed.

“So you accept the apology?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Great! We’ll see you later than,” Harry smiled and turned and led Draco away from the Gryffindor table.

Boy boys did not know what took over them, but suddenly when they reached the doors that led to the entrance hall, Draco suddenly, violently, yanked Harry through them, turned him around, and pressed him against the wall with his chest. Their faces only inches apart, Draco said in a harsh voice too deep for his age, “Don’t you ever make me do anything like that again, Riddle!”

Draco’s voice rumbled in Harry due to their chests pressing against each other and without thinking, without smirking, or playing, or really anything, Harry’s automatic response was, “Yes Daddy.”

It took both boys a long second to process Harry’s answer. Their eyes went wide, one with mirth and other in shock. “I mean Draco!” Harry said quickly, but Draco was already laughing loudly. He smirked at Harry, who blushed in embarrassment.

“Look let’s forget this and be friends, please?” Harry pleaded.

Still smirking, and pressed against Harry, Draco said, “Alright… my son,” and he laughed his way back into the Great Hall.

 

Harry, much to his surprised, managed to befriend and stay friends with both Ron and Draco throughout the first semester. He wrote constantly to both his Dad, whose next letter described in full detail his little adventure with Dumbledore, and Logan, who kept sending him clothes and chocolate. By the time Christmas came around, Harry would like to think that he was good friends with both Ron and Draco, even though the two still did not get along with each other.

Back home, the first thing Harry did was run to Logan’s house and jump onto the boy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” Harry squealed as he tackled the taller boy to the ground.

“Logan, your girlfriend’s here,” Shawn chuckled as he lifted Harry off of his brother with one hand. “Nice to see you Harry, still skinny with all those chocolates Logan sent you?”

“Yup, we have a really big school,” Harry smiled.

“Well, I’m sure Logan will fatten you up one way or another! Ha!” Shawn laughed.

“Do you have a girl yet Shawn?” Harry asked innocently, and the oldest McMann’s laughing stopped instantly. It was his mother who answered as she walked into the hallway to see what was going on.

“No he does not! The boy’s starving his mother here by not dating,” she said. “Such a bad boy!” She opened her arms for Harry, who gave her a warm hug.

“Told ya, I’m busy with the shop and uni, mum,” Shawn said.

“So is Logan, and he still has time to send gifts to his best friend,” Mrs. McMann said. “So why don’t you look around for a girl in all your free time instead of making all your shirts hard as a board!”

“Mum!” both Shawn and Logan said, Shawn looking completely mortified. “Not in front of Harry!”

“The boy doesn’t know what I’m talking about, do you dear?” Mrs. McMann turned to Harry, only to see an innocently confused face. “See? Innocent as a pure baby, he is. Ohh if only you could be my son instead of this brat,” she jabbed a finger at Shawn.

Harry leaned towards Logan and whispered, “What does she mean by turning ‘shirts hard as a board’?”

“I’ll show you later,” Logan said. “Come on, let’s go to my room and you can tell me everything!” So the two boys ran upstairs into Logan’s room. The muggle made sure that the room was completely locked before Harry went on a hurried, excited telling of his first year at Hogwarts, leaving out no details. Afterwards, the two snuck into Shawn’s bedroom, and Logan showed Harry some of his shirts he stashed under his bed. They were indeed very stiff and smelled horrible. Harry, naturally, promised Logan never to mention this to his Daddy.

 

The Dark Lord Voldemort was a very proud father. He loved his son dearly and would move mountains for the boy. The boy’s visit during Christmas break was too short for the Dark Lord, and he found himself counting down the days until he would have his son in his arms again where he would spoil, and teach the boy all he knew as he listened with rapt attention to Harry’s stories about Hogwarts.

Harry’s first and second year seemed to fly by. The boy got himself onto the Slytherin Quidditch team and grew a fascinated and deep love for the sport. He begged Voldemort to allow him to go see games with Draco, or just by themselves. And though the Dark Lord hated the sport (it was just a pointless pastime in his mind) he always agreed with the boy, suffering through the game at times. But it was all worth it to see Harry smiled.

However, as the years went by, Harry began to grow, and the innocent little boy Voldemort raised was slowly becoming a teenager. Voldemort was lucky that Harry wasn’t talking about girls every five seconds, if at all. The only people on Harry’s mind was his friends… especially Draco and Logan. Harry seemed to always find some excuse to be with one or the other. From going to movies with Logan, or Diagon Alley with Draco, the boy was always with one or the other. It was odd to the Dark Lord, and somewhat troubling.

But he did not have time to think or worry about that as, at the end of Harry’s third year and with no letters at all from Harry, Voldemort had a most peculiar visitor.

He was in his study reading a novel that Harry got to him for his birthday but didn’t really got any time to read it (Being a Dark Lord who doesn’t want to take over the world, but only care for his son is a very busy lifestyle). It was two days until Harry’s school year ends, and all Voldemort want was for his son to be home. He had read all about the Dementors and business with Sirius Black and feared for how Harry would react. And, more importantly, he feared that Sirius Black, Harry’s Godfather, would demand the boy to live with him.

There was no way the Dark Lord would ever make that happen.

Quite suddenly, a House-elf appeared, looking desperate. “Master! Master! There’s a rat visitor in our kitchen!”

“Kill it,” Voldemort muttered, not looking up from his book. “And please refill my glass.”

“Master! Master! The rat is a person!”

“Excuse me?” Voldemort said. He stood up from his chair and turned fully to the house-elf.

“It’s true! It’s true! Rat turn into person and begged for you!”

Voldemort began striding pass the frantic house-elf and left his study. Who the hell would try to invade his home? Brandishing his wand, the Dark Lord made his way into the kitchen to see a sorry sight.

A fat, small, balding disgusting man with long dirty nails, hideous teeth, and a face resembling a rat was on his hands and knees, clutching for a house-elf. “Please get our Master! Please tell the Dark Lord that his faithful servant has return to him!”

Voldemort stared at the disgusting man. “What are you doing in my house?” he demanded.

The man looked at him through black beady eyes. “Master!” he cried out. “Master I have returned—don’t you recognized me Master? I am your faithful servant… Peter Pettigrew… I-I-I-I told you—about the Potters!”

Recognition flew across Voldemort’s face. Here was the man who betrayed the Potters to him. The man who was too much of a sniveling coward, and begged for protection when he told the Dark Lord about the Potter’s cottage.

“Pettigrew…” Voldemort sneered.

“Yes, yes, it’s me Master—your most loyal servant—”

“You ran away,” Voldemort said. “You ran as soon as the Potters were dead.”

“Yes I ran!” the man cried. “I ran and I am sorry—but I’m here now, Master, I am here to prove my loyalty again!” He bowed to his hands and knees and cried on the floor. The Dark Lord sneered at the sight.

“I don’t have the time to deal with this,” he sneered. “My son will be home soon.” And without any care for the man, Voldemort aimed his wand and stunned him unconscious. He turned to the elves,” Carry him into the backroom—make sure that his body does not touch anything. I don’t want his smell or disgustingness to stain my home. You—” he pointed to an elf,”—go to Dumbledore and tell him to expect Pettigrew in his office stunned, but unharmed. Tell him he can do whatever he wants with him.”

He turned around and made his way back to his living room, the elves following him with the floating body of Peter Pettigrew. When they reached the back room, Voldemort aimed his wand at the fireplace, and green flames flared up violently. The House-elves threw Pettigrew into the flames, and he was out of Voldemort’s life forever.

“Good… now clean the house!” he commanded. “My son will be here in two days and I do not want a hint of that rat’s existence in this home, not even his smell! And make sure that Lucius gives me my gift to the boy!”

The elves all jumped back into action, and Voldemort hid a smile to himself as he returned to his book. He was determined to give Harry the best present he could get for his son’s fourteenth birthday, and he knew exactly what to give him, though it will pain the Dark Lord slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that is what I call a clunky transition chapter. But hey, they're all TEENAGERS NOW!!! And next chapter... a love triangle begins, but not the one you might think.


	14. Harry's First Discovery

Ch. 14

Harry’s First Discovery

Voldemort was not there to greet Harry at the station as he normally did. Instead, the boy had to floo his way home by himself, a little confused. However, his confusion completely wiped from his memory as he saw the handsome, towering figure of his father waiting for him in front of the fireplace, both hands held behind his back. “Dad!” Harry cried out and he started to run towards the man.

“Stop,” Mr. Riddle commanded. Harry stopped a foot away from him, and stared at him, confused. “Do not hug me Harry,” Voldemort said slowly, “until… I’ve put these somewhere safe.” And he pulled from behind his back, three tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. “Though I loathe the game entirely, you don’t, and since I know you have been cheering for the Bulgarian team…” He smiled when he saw Harry’s huge grin on his face. The Dark Lord opened his arms, “Now, you may hug me,” he said, and Harry rushed into them.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Harry chanted. “They must have cost you a fortune!”

“Me? No,” Voldemort chuckled. “I used Malfoy’s money.”

“Huh?”

“Oh it was quite fun actually,” Voldemort chuckled. “My followers still believe that I am a Dark Lord who would kill at any moment, and with that belief comes a bit of fear.”

“Do they think you’re training me to be the next Dark Lord or something?” Harry asked cheekily, poking his tongue out.

“Only if you want to Harry, just don’t go around killing people,” Voldemort said. “Anyway, I visited the Malfoys and made my request: Three tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and, naturally, he complied. To make matters even greater, I have went to the Ministry to the Department of Magical Games and Sports and… influenced some connections to make sure the Weasleys get the same box tickets that we have.”

“Box Tickets?”

“Yes,” Voldemort smirked. “We shall be sitting with the Minister of Magic and several important Ministry members, but, more importantly, after the game you will be able to meet the players yourself—” Voldemort barely finished the sentence before Harry hugged him again. The boy looked up at Voldemort and said, “Have I told you that I love you?”

“Not today, no,” the man mused.

“I love you Dad,” Harry said. Voldemort smirked and patted the boy’s back. “Well, I think you should go now and tell Logan the news.”

“Logan?”

“I have three tickets Harry,” Voldemort said. “One for me, one for you, and a third for Logan. Do not be daft-looking, I know you tell the boy all about your Quidditch triumphs. So he might as well see a game for himself.”

“But he’s a muggle,” Harry said.

“So? I’m the bloody Dark Lord, I can do what I want,” Voldemort said. “If I want you to bring your best friend to the World Cup then who is going to stop us?”

Harry smiled again and looked at the tickets. “I—Dad can I—”

“Go,” Voldemort said. “The sooner you go tell the boy, the sooner you can come back and tell me how much you love and adore your Daddy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and took the tickets in his hand. “I’ll be right back!” he said excitedly, and he ran out the house. Voldemort couldn’t help but chuckle to himself: The boy forgot to take off his robe.

In his excitement to tell his best friend, Harry did not notice the large black dog the size of a wolf hiding in his front lawn. When the boy turned the corner, the dog darted towards the door, squeezing through it as it swung itself close. The dog stopped, shocked and terrified, as a voice said, “If you are going to sneak into my home, Black, would you please make sure not to drop any of your fur onto my carpets? I’ve just had them clean—and make sure the door is closed!”

 

When Harry arrived at the McMann house, he practically jumped towards the door and began knocking excitedly. An angry voice answered his knocks, “I told you time and again—we don’t work on fuckin’ Sundays—oh, it’s you… what’s with the getup?” It was Mr. McMann. His large, wide frame blocked the door completely.

“School Uniform—is Logan home, Mr. McMann?” Harry asked.

Mr. McMann just thrusted a thick thumb behind him and moved out of the way, muttering under his breath about weirdos and poofs. Harry walked into the house, smiled and said “Hi,” to Mrs. McMann, and stopped in front of a door leading to a basement. He heard grunts and panting from underneath and decided to follow the noise. The basement looked to be a personal gym for the McMann brothers. Weights laid on the floor against the wall, some as small as Harry’s fist while other looked to be the size of his head. There was a large red punching bag hanging from the ceiling, and a bench with a long metallic pole on top of it, with large rings of different weights on either side. All the brothers were down there, and they were all shirtless.

Harry caught his breath, his eyes moving from body to body, from Shawn’s thick muscular back, to Johnny’s large arms… the twins both had perfect, clear abs and were busy doing sit-ups while Logan… Harry could feel his breath going away as he stared at Logan.

The fourteen-year-old grew up immensely, looking quite older than what he really was, the boy had looks that would kill. His chest and abs were defined, he looked thicker, stronger, his arms pure muscle that looked like he could lift Harry up in an instant with ease. His legs looked to be well defined, a little thick, Harry stared at his friend’s nipples, pink with a hint of hair… and pierced? Since when did Logan have his nipples pierced? He still had that confident swagger to him, his hair now stylized in what Harry assumed was now the popular style. He was posing in front of a mirror, smirking to himself.

Harry, keeping his eyes on Logan and whose mouth suddenly became very dry, somehow made the rest of the way down the stairs. Logan looked so different now, so much more mature… it shocked the small petite Harry Riddle. Yes, shock, that is why he must be staring at Logan so.

Though, why was it that his heart was beating so fast… and his private parts growing hard?

Logan spotted Harry through the mirror. Turning around, Logan smiled and opened his arms. “Harry!” he exclaimed. The brothers stopped and turned to greet Harry. Still blushing heavily, Harry did his best to try and stare at Logan’s eyes… but his eyes kept drifting towards his nipples.

“H-Hi Logan… you look good,” Harry said, his voice squeaky.

“Like the change huh?” Logan smirked. “Wait upstairs, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Harry nodded quickly and he rushed up the stairs. His breath now matching his rapid heartbeat, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to be normal, for his private part to soften and for his cheeks to lose the blush. He failed them all by the time Logan returned, wearing a loose grey shirt that was stained with sweat. “Didn’t know you came back,” he smiled.

“I just did,” Harry blushed.

“Harry? You okay? You’re dressed very strangely,” Logan said.

“He’s dressed like a queer!” Mr. McMann’s loud voice shouted through the house.

Harry blushed even more and looked down at his feet. Logan frowned and placed his hand on Harry’s back. “Ignore him, Harry, so come on, what got you so excited that you didn’t even change to see me?” He smiled as he led Harry away from the basement door, and towards a set of stairs that led upstairs. Harry waited until they were safely in Logan’s room before he started talking.

“Daddy surprised me with these,” he said, and he pulled out the World Cup tickets out of his pocket. “They’re tickets to the Quidditch World Cup—best seats you can get—and he got three of them. One for me, one for him, and one for you, if you want to come.”

“Is that that funny sport with the brooms and balls you always tell me about?” Logan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’d love to go,” Logan smirked. “Can I see?” Harry handed him a ticket. “Box seating?” he gasped.

Harry grinned. “Yeah, we get to meet the players afterwards, and you’ll finally be able to meet my friends from Hogwarts!”

“Now I definitely have to do,” Logan smirked. “Have to make sure they’re alright for the McMann’s little boy!”

“McMann’s—and when did I became that?” Harry demanded.

“Since now, Riddle,” Logan smirked. “I mean, look at how tiny you are!” And he laughed as he placed his hand near the ground. “You’re like a baby!”

“Well, I rather be a baby who can get what he wants rather than a chocolate maker who needs muscles just to get a date,” Harry smirked.

“Don’t bring Shawn into this, he’s just hopeless!” Logan exclaimed and the two of them laughed.

“So, you’re coming?” Harry asked.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Logan said.

“Great! I’ll go tell my Dad!” Harry exclaimed. And, in his excitement, he did something that shocked both of them. As he took the ticket from Logan’s hand, he kissed Logan fully on the lips. Both boys realized what happened, and Harry, looking scared and petrified, turned and ran away, leaving Logan standing shocked, and heavily confused.

Harry did not stop running until he was home. Tears began to fill his eyes, his heart began to weigh with an unbearable confusion like a stone tied in chains. When he reached his home, he pushed open the door and yelled out, his voice broken, “Dad!”

Two pairs of footsteps came running, and Harry hiccupped to see both his father and Sirius Black running towards them, both having their wands out. “Sirius?” Harry said, staring at the man. What was he doing here?

“Harry, oh Harry, thank God you’re alright,” Sirius said, and he rushed towards the boy, only to be knocked away with a flick of Voldemort’s wand.

“I told you, Black, do not touch my son,” Voldemort said angrily.

“He’s my godson! I have more claim to him than you, Voldemort,” Sirius spat out. “You killed his parents!”

“And I’ve made up for that several times over,” Voldemort said coolly, his wand still aimed at Sirius, keeping him against the wall. “In fact, Black, the reason you are here is because of me.”

“Because you stole my godson!” Black yelled.

“Stole?” Voldemort laughed. “Stole? I have stole no one.”

“Dad—”

“You killed Lily and James—”

“Dad!”

“I gave Dumbledore Wormtail—I am the reason you are here!”

“DAD!” Harry screamed. He got both the men’s attention. He was still frowning, and trying his best not to cry the tears filling his eyes. “Can we please talk?”

“Yes, of course,” Voldemort said. He glanced at Black and said, “I would love to continue to argue, but my son needs me.” Black glared at him as he continued to struggle against the invisible bonds that tie him to the wall. Voldemort turned his full attention to Harry and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, leading him to two nearby chairs. “What happened? You left looking so happy.”

Harry sniffled and looked up at Voldemort.

“Did Logan say no?”

Harry shook his head.

“Were they mean to you?”

Again, Harry shook his head.

“Then what happened?”

“I…I kissed Logan,” Harry whispered. Behind them, Sirius strained to hear him. Voldemort, noticing this, looked back and said, “Your godson kissed his best friend, if you were wondering.” Turning back to Harry, “Did he hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did he screamed?”

“No.”

“Did he do anything?”

“No… but… I, I’m supposed to like girls, right?” Harry looked up at Voldemort. He looked scared, his heart still weighted down by a stone tied with the metal chain.

The Dark Lord gave his son a soft smile. “No, no you’re not supposed to like anybody, Harry,” Voldemort said. “If you find that you keep staring at boys instead of girls, that’s okay, if you find you’re staring at both equally, that’s okay too. What matters, Harry, is that you are happy. Understand?”

Harry gave a soft nod.

“Good,” Voldemort said. “Now, pushing aside my personal feelings for the odious patriarch and foul-mouthed brothers, how did you feel in that moment?”

“It was… too much of a shock—I saw Logan shirtless… he has muscles now… and piercings!” Harry exclaimed, earning a frown from his Daddy. “I…I liked staring at them… I mean…I, well, you know…”

“No need to explain,” Voldemort said. “Can I tell your godfather about our whispering?” Harry’s eyes widened slightly, he didn’t notice that they were whispering. He nodded, and Voldemort stood up.

“Your godson just had a very dramatic first kiss with his best friend whose father I hate and brothers I find quite annoying,” Voldemort said. “His best friend did not react and thus, Harry ran away—”

There was a knock on the door. The three turned to stare at it. The knocking was rapid, almost feverish, and sounding very urgent. “Answer it,” Voldemort said. He waved his wand, and Sirius slid to the ground, the invisible bonds no more.

Harry wiped his face and opened the door. Logan pounced on him, their lips connecting and Logan’s hands going to Harry’s face as the two teens fall to the ground. “Such a chick Harry,” Logan growled out, “left before I could do anything.” They kissed again while the two adults stared, one with confusion, and the other pure annoyance.

The Dark Lord cleared his voice, causing both boys to look up at him. “H-Hi Mr. Riddle…” Logan blushed.

“Hello.”

“Uh… thanks for the ticket to that World Cup thing, I can’t wait to go,” Logan said.

“I heard.” Voldemort said. Logan was still laying on top of Harry. “Please, get off my son.”

“Oh!” As if realizing where they were, the two scrambled to their feet. Logan noticed Sirius at last and asked, “Who are you?”

“That, Mr. McMann, is Harry’s godfather,” Mr. Riddle said. “He was… unavailable these past twelve years. I have recently helped him with a very important situation.”

“Oh… nice to meet you, I’m Logan McMann,” Logan said, and he offered his hand.

Sirius Black looked at it for a second then took it, muttering his name. “You one of them too?” he asked.

“One of—”

“The Muggle knows that we are wizards, Black,” Voldemort drawled. “And yes, he is.”

“Sweet,” Logan grinned. “So, you can like, shoot fire out of your hand and everything?”

“Logan,” Harry giggled, his mood taking a quick and sudden one eighty, “that isn’t how magic works, I told you.”

“No… I can’t do that…” Sirius said apprehensively.

“Black and I were just about to discuss his living situation,” Mr. Riddle said. “Harry, why don’t you and Logan occupy yourselves? One of my snakes will follow you.”

Harry grinned and winked at Logan, he whispered something, and the two of them rushed up the stairs, and down a hallway towards Harry’s room. Voldemort immediately turned to Sirius. “You will not scream, you will not fight, you will do nothing but sit down and talk to me. Harry is here now, and I will not have fighting or screaming while he is here.”

He snapped his fingers, and the thick snake slithered into the room, in English, so Sirius can understand, he said, “Follow Harry and Logan. Make sure they keep the kissing to a minimum.”

“What do you mean by living conditions?” Sirius demanded.

“You have no where else to go, do you?” Mr. Riddle said more than asked. “You’ve no home, no friends. You may be an innocent man because of my actions, but that does not mean that people will instantly forgive you or open their arms for you.”

Black still glared at Voldemort, who continued. “I know, you kept saying that you’re going to get Harry back, steal my son from me, and all that godfatherly nonsense. But the point of the matter is this: Harry Riddle is my son. He has been for thirteen years now. We have grown rather attached to each other. If you have any doubts, just ask that old fool Dumbledore.”

“You mean he knew?”

“Of course he knew,” Voldemort laughed. “He personally handed Harry his Hogwarts letter himself! After we had a little argument. He tried to take away my son too. But as you see,” Voldemort waved a hand towards where Harry and Logan fled away, “he has failed. I will assume, however, that you, unlike Dumbledore, will want to stay close to my son, you have a right to it being his godfather, however, I will not tolerate your attempts to steal him away. The boy is happy here, happier than with whatever you can provide in your current state, which let me remind you Black is nothing, and, apparently, he now has a boyfriend.” Voldemort frowned at the last part. “A boyfriend whose access to our home now has to be limited… but that is business for another day.

“Your only choice, it seems, is that you stay here, Black,” Voldemort said. “However, that will only happen if you promise not to try and turn my son against me. It is an impossible task, and it will only lead to him disliking you.”

“I will never live with you,” Sirius Black yelled. “You stole Harry—”

“What did I warn you about yelling?” Voldemort seethed, his wand suddenly at Sirius’s neck. “I offered you a place to stay with Harry, isn’t that what you wanted? But instead you yell? After I specifically told you not to? Get out. My offer will remain open, but until you learn your senses, I want you out of my house. Go!”

He flicked his wand, and Black was gone, thrust out of the front door. The Dark Lord sighed as Sirius glared at him through the open front doors. Crossing his arms, Voldemort walked up to Black until the was just as the threshold of the doors. “Well?”

“You never harmed him?”

“No never,” Voldemort drawled. “Disciplined, yes, but not harm.”

“Discipline?”

“Spanked.”

“Fine…James and Lily help me, fine I’ll live with you,” Sirius said.

“Excellent,” Voldemort said, his lips curling into a smug smirk. “You will have the guest room upstairs. And no, it is not in Harry’s corridor,” and he turned towards the stairs, not even waiting or looking back to see if Black was following him.

 

Meanwhile, Harry and Logan were too busy meshing their faces together. Like two horny teens, their bodies pressed together, hormones taking over as they groaned and explored. Harry’s hand was up Logan’s shirt, brushing over his detailed muscles, flicking and playing with his pierced nipples while Logan was kissing his neck, sucking and causing Harry to give high-pitched noises.

“Such a great chick,” Logan muttered, “even better.”

Harry couldn’t understand what Logan was muttering against his neck, his head felt entirely foggy, his hands tingled with excitement as he pressed against Logan’s muscles. Shirts were tossed aside, and Harry stared at Logan’s piercings. Two small rings that shined against his pale skin. “Like my piercings, Baby?” Logan smirked.

Harry blushed and bit his lip. “Don’t worry, babe, we’ll get you some too if you want, get your tits pierced, or your ears.”

“I don’t have tits,” Harry muttered, “I’m not a girl.”

“Just kiss me,” Logan said roughly, and he hooked his hand on the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him closer. They kissed openly, Harry letting go of all control, letting Logan direct him. He was surprised at how skilled Logan was, but it didn’t matter as he just felt so good kissing him, the cold metal of Logan’s piercings pressing against Harry’s chest made him shiver. Logan’s hands drifted up and down Harry’s smooth back, taking in his lean body that led to a small butt. He grabbed and squeezed both cheeks and started thrusting against Harry’s body when they both heard a very angry hiss.

Shocked, they turned to see the thick snake sitting on Harry’s nightstand, right next to their heads. Logan gave a scream, more of surprise than terror, and Harry gave a very annoyed groan. However he did not know why he was so annoyed.

_“Go away,”_ he hissed.

_“Believe me, I would want to. I do not want to watch you and disgusting human doing whatever it is you were doing, but my master commanded, and I must follow,”_ the snake said. Harry gave a groan and turned to Logan.

“Daddy sent him to watch us,” he said.

“Damn… can’t you tell him to go away or something?”

“No, Daddy would just get angry,” Harry said.

Logan gave Harry a dirty smirk. He moved so they were sitting next to each other and wrapped one arm around Harry while he grabbed Harry’s hand and placed it over one of his piercings. “We can still have fun without your Daddy getting mad,” he purred. Harry blushed and bit his lips.

“How about we go see a movie later?” the boy said. “It’s been a year since I saw one—”

“Mmm… that sounds like fun,” Logan said. “But first, let’s kiss some more.” Harry was more than happy to do so. Both boys moaned in the kiss, and Logan smirked and couldn’t help but say, “God Harry, you kiss like a chick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self Promotion: Do you like Werewolves? Do you want to see Draco be a bottom? Do you want to see Harry fall in love with Cedric Diggory? Do you want to see a different kind of Daddy Voldemort can be? Then please consider checking out Potter's Pack! Whose first chapter is up now!


	15. The World Cup

Chapter 15

The World Cup

Harry loved kissing Logan. They kissed practically every day, and every time they did, Logan would thrust his tongue into Harry’s mouth and grope his flat chest, as if trying to hold something. Dating Logan was like a dream come true to Harry. They acted the same, nothing really changed about their relationship, they still went to movies or walk around town… it’s just that now they were dates and involved kissing.

But never hand holding. Logan never held Harry’s hand in public, nor did he had his eyes open when they started getting frisky, they were always closed. And Harry hoped that his comments on Harry being his “chick” would stop… but it just gotten worse. Sometimes, it was funny, like how Logan would point out girlish clothes that Harry should try, or even suggesting that Harry should grow out his hair.

Harry usually just ignored them, or laughed them off. It would help that Logan would laugh too and proceed to kiss the daylights out of Harry. They were filled with a happy, summertime love that carried them to the Quidditch World Cup.

On the day of the match, Voldemort woke Harry early. He and Sirius have fallen into an uneasy trust of one another. After seeing that Mr. Riddle did not try or want to harm Harry in any way after a week of living together, Sirius decided to stop clutching his wand whenever the Dark Lord walked in.

“Harry! Wake up, we have to get ready,” Mr. Riddle said.

Harry jolted awake, and rolled out. “I’m up… I’m up,” he muttered sleepily.

“I will be waiting for you in the dining room,” Mr. Riddle instructed. “We are to eat, then pick up Logan before I Apparate us directly into the Top Box of the stadium.

“You can’t do that!” Sirius’s voice yelled out, horrified. “There are countless wards—"

“That will all fall by my might,” Voldemort smirked. Harry waited until he heard his father’s boastful voice fade down the hallway before getting out of his bed. He was having a wonder dream about Logan touching him… intimately, and he was sad that it was interrupted by his father. He got dressed quickly, choosing muggle clothes in the colors of Bulgaria, the team he was rooting for, and ran his way downstairs where he found his father and Sirius bickering again.

“They spent countless months making those wards—months! There are anti-muggle, anti-apparation—Unseekable! And you’re just going to break a hole through the damn thing?” Sirius yelled.

“Yes, pretty much,” Mr. Riddle said. He was dressed, as always, in his finest suit. This time it was periwinkle. “I have gathered a vast amount of magical powers through my life, Black, and if I am not using it to take over the wizarding world, I will use it to make sure my son and his boyfriend gets the best seats for the Quidditch World Cup.”

“That’s insane! Totally illegal—if they find out—”

“It will be fixed the moment we go through, nobody will notice,” Mr. Riddle said. “Besides, how else will we get Logan inside?”

“Through the regular entrance?” Sirius suggested.

“And make the muggle jealous about all he can’t do?” Mr. Riddle scoffed. “What with the boy think when he sees a three-year-old playing with their parents’ wands, or wizards and witches using magic casually?”

“Well he already seems used to it being Harry’s best friend and boyfriend,” Sirius said. Harry bit his lip embarrassed.

“That will fade,” Mr. Riddle said, waving his hand. “That boy is not good enough for my Harry.”

“I know that, I’m just saying,” Sirius muttered. “Boy is still dating Harry.”

“Hey! Can you please stop talking about my boyfriend like that?” Harry said irritably. Both men just shrugged.

“Well,” Sirius commented, “At least Logan is better than a Malfoy.”

“Excuse me?” Mr. Riddle said. “Better than Malfoy?”

“The whole family is full of dark-wizard pricks who can’t think for themselves,” Sirius said. “Harry can do much better.”

“I’m right here!”

“Dear Black, you better remember your own family history before commenting on Dark families,” Voldemort said, giving his guest a sinister smirk. “And for the record, the Malfoys would be a more suitable pairing for Harry. Not only are the two friends, but Harry marrying into them will give myself more leverage over Lucius and Narcissa, which is always a good thing.”

“Leverage,” Sirius sneered. “That all you think about?”

Harry frowned. It was obvious that the two had completely forgotten Harry was there. So, instead of trying to forcefully remind them, which would involve yelling, he just ate his breakfast, muttered something about getting Logan, and left.

The walk to Logan’s seemed quicker than before, Harry allowed his excitement to carry him down the hill and into town, taking the familiar corners until at last he stood in front of the McMann house. He stopped before the door and checked his clothes one last time.

He was wearing the tightest blackest pants he could find. They rode up his legs, and cupped his butt, lifting it slightly to give the allusion that he actually worked out (which Harry didn’t), and a scarlet long-sleeve shirt that hugged his petite body. His hair was naturally messy and reached past his ears. Harry did not try to smother it, knowing that his hair has a mind of its own.

Smiling at his appearance, Harry knocked on the McMann door. He was happy, and extremely lucky, to have Logan be the one answering it. Though he was a bit disappointed to see that the Muggle did not dress up for the World Cup like he did. Instead, he was just wearing a regular pair of blue jeans and a tee-shirt that shown off his muscles. “Harry… you’re here,” Logan said. He stared at Harry’s body openly, focusing on his flat chest.

“Yeah… Dad and Sirius are arguing, so I decided to come get you,” Harry smiled. He kissed Logan’s cheek and looked inside. “You home alone?”

“I wish,” Logan scoffed. “My brothers are all here. I swear they never leave.”

“What? You mean to say that summer is almost over and—Shawn doesn’t have a girlfriend yet?” Harry yelled the last part into the house.

Shawn’s voice came yelling out, “Don’t mock me Harry! It hurts too much coming from you!”

Harry laughed softly and smiled at Logan, “Well, come on,” he said. He automatically went to grab Logan’s hand and kiss his cheek, but the boy stepped away.

“Yeah… let’s go,” he said, and he walked past Harry.

Harry let out a silent sigh, frowning to himself. He had hoped that for some reason today would be different from the others. Running to catch up with Logan, they walked back to Harry’s home in silence, Harry knowing that Logan wants to have the awkwardness fade away from whenever the small boy tries to show public affection.

When they returned to Riddle Manor, harry was relieved to see that his dad and Sirius stopped bickering. The two walked into the dining room where the adults seemed to just finish eating. “Good you’re here,” Mr. Riddle said. He stopped and stared at Logan’s clothes. Harry saw the same flash of disappointment in his Daddy’s eyes that he had but did not say anything about it.

“Just to remind you, we are going to be sitting at the Top Box with the Minister of Magic himself,” Mr. Riddle said.

“So you’re saying I’m not dressed good enough?” Logan huffed, looking a little insulted.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” Mr. Riddle said. He flicked his wand and Logan’s clothes changed into something more wizard-like and appropriate. A cloak appeared on Logan, looking a deep blue color. He frowned at it for a moment and looked at Harry’s outfit. “Why doesn’t he get to change?” he asked.

“Because I have several cloaks that I didn’t put on yet,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “And besides, I don’t feel like wearing one today.” He gave Logan a cheeky grin. The muggle just stared at him, shocked.

“Well with that said,” Mr. Riddle sighed. “It is time for us to go. I hope to meet Mr. Weasley there, where I’ll be dropping you two off for a bit, Harry, while I look for Lucius.”

“And why would you need to look for Malfoy?” Sirius demanded, looking at Voldemort suspiciously.

“None of your business, Black, allow me to have a few of my enjoyments,” Mr. Riddle said. “Now, hold onto my arm.” He extended his left arm as he held his wand with his right. Harry held on instantly and looked at Logan, who looked confused.

“This is how we’re going to get there, come on,” Harry said. “Dad’s really good at this.”

“It will only take us a second,” Mr. Riddle said.

Logan still looked apprehensive, as if holding Mr. Riddle, even if it was just his arm, was the most difficult thing in the world. Harry gave a loud, annoyed noise, and grabbed Logan’s hand with his free one, and hooked it onto Mr. Riddle’s arm. With the two children tightly grabbing on, Voldemort apparated, the three feeling the tight, squeezing sensation for a second before landing on their feet in somewhere completely different.

Logan yanked his hand violently away from Mr. Riddle’s arm and looked around. They were surrounded by tents as far as the eye could see, and in the distance a huge stage, bigger than Logan has ever seen, towered over all. Witches and Wizards were all talking, walking around as magic hung heavily in the air. There were people disappearing and reappearing every now and then—and there was even a little kid on a broom!

Near them was a pack of redheads along with a single brunette girl that he thought looked cute. Harry was cuter, and would be cuter with some… alternations, but Logan was able to appreciate the cuteness of the brunette girl. “Ah, there they are,” Mr. Riddle said.

“Harry!” Ron said, running up to the three of them. The two shook hands. “Missed you mate,” Ron said, “Good to see you without that prat around you.”

“He’s still my friend you know,” Harry frowned, but he gave a cheeky smile, “but you’re right, he’s a prat.”

“Language, Harry,” Mr. Riddle sighed. He looked over at Mr. Weasley, then at the younger ones. “These are all your sons and daughters, I assume, Mr. Weasley?”

“Oh right—you haven’t met them yet—this here is my son Percy—he just started at the Ministry,” he pointed to a redhead wearing glasses, “Percy here works under Barty Crouch, you know—”

“Crouch… yes, it’s been a while,” Mr. Riddle muttered.

“Percy, this here is Mr. Riddle, he is a very influential person at the Ministry,” Mr. Weasley told Percy, who immediately stuck his hand out at Mr. Riddle.

“Yes, well that is not important now,” Mr. Riddle said. “Ahh—those two must be, what was it, Fred and George?” he said, pointing at the twins. “Harry has written to me about you two, particularly the pranks you pull on his fellow Slytherins?”

The two twins gave a cheeky grin and waved at Mr. Riddle. “Yes, I hope you don’t mind that—”

“No, no, it is all good,” Mr. Riddle said, chuckling. “Harry loves it when they prank the Slytherins. Humbles them a bit.” The twins grinned at that.

“Yes, well, here’s Bill, Charlie, you know Ron of course—over there is my daughter Ginny, and Ron’s friend, Hermione,” Mr. Weasley introduced.

Mr. Riddle nodded and turned to Harry, “I will be back shortly, there are some people I need to see,” he said.

“Bye Dad,” Harry said and, being a loving son, he gave Mr. Riddle a quick hug before going back to Ron. Logan watched this, confused.

“You still hug your Dad?” he asked.

“Of coruse,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“So where is he going anyway? And who’s he?” Ron asked, pointing at Logan.

“Dad’s going to scare the Malfoys a bit,” Harry said. “It’s one of his favorite pastimes, scaring the Malfoys, or Yaxley… or the Goyles or Crabbes.”

“Why would he do that?” Hermione asked.

“He does not like how Slytherin’s reputation fell,” Harry said. “At least that’s the excuse he gave him.” In reality, however, Harry knew that his father just liked to keep tabs on his old followers, making sure that they don’t do anything stupid. Also he just loved scaring them. “Anyway, this is Logan, my boy—”

“I’m his friend from home,” Logan interrupted. He offered his hand to Ron and Hermione. “Knew Harry since we were seven.”

Harry stared at Logan. Why didn’t he want Harry to say boyfriend? He looked at the others and saw that he was the only one who noticed that.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione said.

“Ron Weasley.”

Harry kept an eye on Logan the rest of the day. The two wandered around with Ron and Hermione, buying merchandise that supported both Ireland and Bulgaria, though Harry kept solely to Bulgarian merchandise such as a miniature Viktor Krum who walked around in his hand. “He’s the youngest professional Seeker,” Harry said excitedly to Logan as he shown the figure to Logan. “And we get to meet him after the match!” He couldn’t contain his excitement as he practically vibrated with giddiness.

“Geez Harry,” Logan whispered to him, smirking, “you’re like a chick who’s excited to lose her virginity.”

Harry stopped immediately and turned to Logan. His voice dropping and becoming heated, he snarled, “Logan I swear to God we will talk more about this later but—Do. Not. Call. Me. A. Chick. Understand?” he flared and turned around. He missed the glare that Logan was giving him.

Night came quickly, and soon it was time for the game. Mr. Riddle joined them again at that point, and he led Harry and Logan into the stadium and towards a set of stairs.

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. The three kept climbing, Mr. Weasley’s party following them, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Harry, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, his father, and Logan, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The filed looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Harry’s eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible hand was scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again.

“Harry—Harry, what is that?” Logan’s voice came in his ear. Harry looked away from the field to Logan, who was pointing at a creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair and was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga.

“A house-elf,” Harry whispered. “They’re like servants, butlers and maids. I’m guessing it’s holding the seat for its umm boss.”

“Ah…”

Harry opened his velvet-covered program and glanced through it. “They’re beginning with a display of the teams’ mascot,” he said out loud.

“Oh that’s always worth watching,” Mr. Weasley said. “National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.”

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. Mr. Riddle stayed in his seat, looking bored as ever. He only glanced casually at the important-looking wizards. He did not even stand up to greet Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. He was, however, ticked off when the Minister saw his son and shook his hand as if he knew Harry for years and pulled him away to meet the other wizards. “Harry Potter, you know,” he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn’t seem to understand a word of English. “Harry Potter… oh come on now, you know who he is… the boy who survived You-Know-Who …you do know who he is—”

“His is Harry Riddle, Cornelius,” Mr. Riddle said finally, standing up to stand behind his son, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He looked at the Bulgarian prime minister and shocked everyone as he spoke fluent Bulgarian. The Bulgarian Prime Minister gave a laugh of joy and the two converse for a bit, the man shaking Harry’s and Mr. Riddle’s hand enthusiastically. “When did you learn to speak Bulgarian, Dad?” Harry asked.

“During my travels,” Mr. Riddle said vaguely.

“Ahh!” Fudge said, “and here’s Lucius!”

Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Lucius Malfoy, his son, Draco; and a woman Harry supposed must be Draco’s mother.

“Ah, Fudge,” Mr. Malfoy said, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. It seemed that he did not see Harry nor Mr. Riddle yet. “How are you? I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?”

“How do you do, how do you do?” Fudge said, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. “And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk—Obalonsk—Mr.—well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?”

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other, Mr. Malfoy’s cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

“Good lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius had just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur, he’s here as my guest.”

“So it appears that Malfoys could not afford tickets at the Top Box? Such a shame,” Mr. Riddle said. He looked around and asked, “Am I the only one who actually brought these seats?”

The look of embarrassment on Mr. Malfoy’s face was enough to make Mr. Riddle give a big, polite smile to the Ministers while Harry snickered behind him. However, his embarrassment went away as he saw Logan. Not being able to help himself, he said, “You don’t look like a Weasley, and yet you obviously do not belong here. Who are you?”

“He is my boyfriend, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said, gaining Draco’s attention. Logan’s eyes went wide and he shrank into his seat. “And yes, he is a muggle, in case you were wondering.”

“A muggle? Here?” Fudge said, looking slightly scandalized. Just at that moment, another man ran in. Harry remembered him as Ludo Bagman, who hours before made a bet with Fred and George.

“Everyone here?”

“Bagman! There’s a muggle in here!”

“There is? Where?” Bagman asked. The Minister pointed at Logan. “Ohh! Well you’re in quite a show young man!” Bagman said.

Harry returned to his seat next to Logan. Again he tried to hold his hand, but Logan pulled it away.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said, _“Sonorus!”_ and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators cheered and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND:0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce … the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

A sneer formed on Mr. Riddle’s lips. “ _Veela,_ ” he said.

“What are Veela?” Harry asked. But a hundred veela were now gliding onto the field, and Harry’s question was answered for him. Vella were women… the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen, it was apparent, to Harry, that they weren’t human. Their skin shone moon-light bright, and their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind and suddenly music started. Mr. Riddle’s sneer became more pronounced and Harry turned to Logan, only to feel something horrible.

Logan was out of his seat. He, like the twins and Ron, were completely enraptured with the Veela’s dancing. The four were whooping like hormone-crazed animals at the dancing, with the rest of the stadium. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken at the amount of open affection Logan was showing to the Veela. He was smiling, doing everything he could to impress them, flexing his muscles, yelling, trying to be impressive. Things he had never done with Harry.

Behind him, he heard someone lean forward and Draco’s voice breathed into his ear, “Some boyfriend, Harry,” he said.

Harry turned around to glare at Draco. Only his form was misty-looking. Draco saw his, and instead of looking smug, he looked completely worried. Harry raised a hand to his face only to feel wetness.

The four boys were now screaming declarations of love and affection with the rest of the stadium. “COME HERE! YOU BEAUTIFUL WOMEN!” Fred screamed.

“I WANT TO SHOW YOU HOW PRETTY YOU ARE!” Logan screamed with them.

“THE MUGGLE’S RIGHT! YOU ARE ALL GORGEOUS!” George screamed.

Harry’s body shuttered. He squeezed his eyes closed and willed himself to stop crying. The music stopped. Logan returned to his seat, still looking very dazed, as if under some hypnotic spell. Smiling lazily at Harry he whispered, “Those Veela were beautiful, weren’t they? You should totally just become a girl like that Harry, nice tits and everything. You’ll be just as beautiful as them now.”

“So… so I’m not beautiful now?” Harry asked, his voice waving.

“No, not like them. Don’t worry though,” Logan said, still drunk from the Veela charms, “we’ll make you into a chick. I know that’s what you want.”

Harry said nothing. He just closed his eyes and rested his head on his chest, willing himself to stay in one piece, even though he felt like he was just a million shattered pieces held together loosely by a thread whose knot Logan just severed.

He missed the Irish National Team mascots, who were leprechauns, and only looked up as Bagman yelled, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome—the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you—Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

“Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaand— _Krum!_ ”

Harry managed to hold himself together as he cheered. He took his Omnioculars that he brought earlier that day and focused on Krum. He was thick, muscled, dark and sallow-skinned with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen. Taking a deep breath, he placed his Omnioculars down and shown Logan how to quickly use his before staring at Krum again.

If he just focused on the game, Harry believed that he might just be ok.

“Harry?” Logan’s voice asked, striking through him, “Anything the matter? You’re acting odd.”

_Just focus on the game…_


	16. Melancholy Break-Up

Chapter 16

Melancholy Break-Up

Harry focused on Krum the entire game. He did not look up to see Logan, who was also enraptured by the game. His heart was in too many pieces. Logan’s words under the Veela’s influence shattered the boy. He didn’t know how to handle himself, knowing that Logan didn’t love him for who he was—that he wanted to change Harry so much just so they could hold hands. It was too much for the boy.

Ireland won, but Krum got the Snitch.

“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their Mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!” Bagman roared.

Harry’s eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge.

“Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers—Bulgaria!” Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousand and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

When Krum came inside, Harry could feel his breath and shattered heart sweeping away. He was more handsome, more dominant close up then on a broom. Harry could see every thick muscle, his bulging chest and legs… and his butt when he turned to talk to the Bulgarian Prime Minister—it was as if Harry’s woes were temporarily forgotten.

Then the Irish team came, and the thunderous applause, accompanied by Logan’s own cheering, brought Harry’s heartbreak back. When both teams left, Bagman turned to Fred and George to give them their winnings while Logan just turned and smile at Harry.

“Great game huh? You should have brought me to more games like this, that was exciting!” Logan smiled.

Harry just nodded. “Logan,” he said carefully, “do you… do you remember what you said to me?”

“When?” Logan asked, frowning in confusion.

“During the Veela performance,” Harry said. The Top Box began to filter out. Harry and Logan followed Mr. Riddle, and the three led the Weasleys, who were last.

Logan frowned in thought as he racked his mind over, “No,” he said slowly, “No… I don’t remember anything, just their beautiful bodies, weren’t they beautiful Harry?” he grinned.

Harry sighed. “We need to talk when we’re alone,” He whispered so only Logan could hear him.

Mr. Riddle looked over his shoulder at Harry and Logan. “Do you boys mind if I have a talk with the Bulgarian Prime Minister? He was talking earlier about an old friend that I once knew.”

“Sure,” Harry nodded. This would give him and Logan much needed time to talk.

They soon were caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When the group reached the Weasleys’ tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

“Are you sure you and your father wouldn’t want to stay the night?” he asked Harry. “There is plenty of room, unless you have a tent already.”

“No, we apparated here,” Harry said casually. “And I’m sure that my dad’s talk will be a long one… he doesn’t know how to stay quiet. Thank you for the offer, though.”

Harry pulled Logan a little ways from the tent and sighed. The noise was still loud but, for some reason, it felt deadly quiet around them. “When the Veela… began their dance… you came under their spell. You began talking. Calling them beautiful, then telling me that I should become a girl… get tits and everything… that you’ll turn me into a chick and it’s what I want.” Harry’s voice was wavering. He wanted to be angry, but found that he was too sad.

He looked up to see Logan looking frustrated and anguished. “Logan,” Harry breathed.

“I tried,” Logan said, his voice sounding weak. “I tried so hard Harry, to be like you… to like boys like you like them… I tried to, but I can’t! I just can’t Harry!”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I like girls Harry, girls,” Logan exclaimed, looking horribly guilty. “I like tits, cunts, pussy, soft bodies—girls! My brothers told me to like girls. My parents told me to like girls. My dick tells me to love girls—and I do. I just—I want to do everything to girls, I’m supposed to be that way, that’s how I was raised. But you—Harry, I just feel for you more than I felt for any girl. I like being with you, a lot, I like listening to your voice, I like spending time, I like the kissing, I like hearing about your day—about Hogwarts—I like you more than I liked anyone. I tried to love you—I tried to be a poof like you but I can’t! My father taught me not to be like that; my brothers mock emotions like that—you hear them, you’re just a poof to them, a girl in a boy’s body! And I—I tried bringing that girl out, I thought that if I could make you a girl, if I can show you how beautiful you are, and how good you’ll feel with tits and a vag instead of your dick that I could—I could—just try and sort out these feelings I have!”

“Logan,” Harry interrupted hesitantly. “I’m not a girl… I don’t have tits, I don’t want tits… I’m a guy, and I love guys. That’s never going to change.”

“I know,” Logan groaned. “I know and I tried—you don’t know what it’s like living with my brothers and family!” His face was turning red, tears were threatening to fall. “My mum constantly reminds us every day to get a girl—to start dating and make her happy, and every day we don’t, we just disappoint her more! Da’s worrying that we all might be poofs with how much we spend working out in the basement and Shawn, everybody—they kept talking about girls. About how you’re supposed to hold them, kiss them—everything I did to you, I learned from my brothers Harry. Yet it just wasn’t enough—for any of us! We’re a constant disappointment unless we bring home a girl. It’s—it’s mind breaking—and you—you who were so sweet, and kind, and everything I want in a girlfriend. But you’re my best friend, my male best friend! I feel like I love you but my brothers and da say I can’t. But I do, but I want girls and yet you’re here and—I can’t even begin to understand!” Logan screamed in anguish and fell to his knees, gripping his head painfully.

He was crying.

Looking up at Harry, Logan at that moment looked so vulnerable, so broken, so confused… Harry felt his cheeks get wet from his own tears.

“I wish I was gay Harry,” Logan cried out. “I wish that I could like boys the way you do. Then things would be much simpler, I would know just what it is I’m feeling. I tried Harry, I tried so hard for you—I watched videos, I thought of you—every time we kissed I kept my eyes open to stare at your face out of fear I would think of a girl if I closed my eyes. But none of it worked, those stupid, idiot thoughts kept flowing back! I couldn’t stop it—I wanted to stop it, I wanted to feel for you the way you feel for me and I do but I can’t because you’re not a girl and—” Logan screamed again, he fell forward pathetically and pounded the floor.

“Why can’t this be easy? “Logan screamed at the ground. “Why can’t I be gay? Why couldn’t you be a chick? Why? Why? Why?” He kept pounding the ground with his fists. When he looked up at Harry, his face was puffed, tears stained his cheeks along with dirt. “I’m sorry Harry,” his voice cracked. “I’m so, so sorry for everything. I tried so hard to be a good boyfriend for you, but I wasn’t—I can’t. I feel for you, I want to love you—but everything I know tells me no.

“Harry, Harry, I’m—I’m sorry. You don’t deserve me—you never deserved me. I just tore you down. I’m so sorry Harry… for everything.” Logan fell to the floor again, sobbing. “I was scared Harry—scared of losing you! I don’t want to lose you Harry! I care about you too much, I love you Harry! But I can’t love you. Everything I know tells me that I can’t love you, but still—still—I wish I was gay…”

Harry knelt down, he was openly crying as well. “I think,” his voice cracked. He cleared his voice, only for it to be high and squeaky, “I think… we should break up. For both of us.”

“I’m sorry Harry, I’m so sorry,” Logan continued to sob.

“I…you should go inside, I need to go for a walk,” Harry said. He stood up and stared down at the muggle who taught him everything he knew. They loved each other, really loved each other. Harry knew that they were both misinterpreting their love but yet that knowledge still did not stop his heart from shattering again. He turned on his heels and began to walk away from the camps and towards the forest that surrounded the site.

He did not even try to stop the tears from falling as he walked, ignoring everyone as he hugged his arms to himself. He wanted to look back, he wanted to check, just to make sure that Logan went inside, or that the boy was following him, but he couldn’t, it would just break him again.

The tents became more spaced out, and trees soon replaced them. He was at the edge of the forest, away from the World Cup, when he noticed that he wasn’t alone. For some reason Draco Malfoy was standing by a tree, watching the campsite ahead of him, as if waiting for something. Harry moved to step away, but Draco heard him.

“What are you doing here, Riddle—Harry why are you crying?” Draco asked.

Harry didn’t know why, he just wanted somebody, anybody to comfort him. Giving a giant sob, Harry ran towards Draco and clutched onto him for dear life. Draco was shocked, staring down at the crying son of Voldemort, but wrapped his arms around him awkwardly. “Harry?”

“I broke up with Logan,” Harry whispered.

“You did?” Draco asked, doing his best to hide a growing grin.

“Yeah,” Harry sniffled. He did not look up at Draco, just held him. “I knew that filthy muggles wasn’t good enough for you,” Draco said. “What happened? What did he do?”

“Don’t—don’t call him that,” Harry said. “It’s not his fault… he’s straight.”

“So he tried to trick you!”

“No!” Harry cried out. “He—he tried.”

“So now you’re defending the muggle?”

“Draco, what is wrong with you?” Harry yelled, looking up at him finally, only to glare at his friend.

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you? Trying to date a straight muggle,” Draco sneered. “I thought the son of the Dark Lord would know better!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” Harry flared angrily. “I loved Logan! I still love him! Don’t you dare make fun of my friend!”

“Friend,” Draco sneered. “How can you call a muggle your ‘friend’? Especially one who is idiotic to dump you!”

Harry continued to glare at Draco. “You don’t understand,” he said harshly, “how terrible this made us both feel. He wants us to be together—we both love each other—but he can’t explain it, he doesn’t know how to show it.”

“Then he is an idiot, a stupid idiot who should never have step a foot in here,” Draco said.

Angry, Harry pushed Draco away just as the sounds of screams filled the air. Both boys turned to see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. …They didn’t seem to have faces—then he realized they were wearing hoods and face masks. High above them, floating along in the midair, five struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

It was then with horror that Harry recognized one of the floating people when they were suddenly illuminated: It was Logan. He was forced into unnatural positions that caused him to scream in agony.

“Logan!” Harry screamed. He began to run towards the group when Draco grabbed his arm. “Let go!”

“It’s just a muggle, leave him!”

“Fuck off!” Harry screamed. He yanked his arm violently from Draco’s grip, which slacken at the boy’s shock of Harry’s curse. Harry ran out of the forest, his hand moving to his pocket for his wand—only to find that it wasn’t there! He skid to a halt and looked around frantically—where was it? Why was it lost _now_ of all times—Logan’s in trouble!

He looked at the group of marchers and saw that they were nearing Harry. He needed something, anything to fight them, to scare them off. The jeering crowd started to come nearer and nearing, Harry stood transfixed, as if his entire body was stone as he stared at them.

Mobs of people running away bumped into him, one pushed Harry so hard that he fell to the ground, hitting his head. His vision became doubled and dazed as his glasses fell off. Harry waited, feet were either stepping or tripping over him. Then, suddenly, silence.

And in that silence, a voice roared out.

_“MORSMORDRE!”_

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted into the sky. It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As Harry watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

The woods erupted with screams. The masked men were gone. Harry staggered to his feet, confused. A series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding him.

It an instant Harry registered that each wizard had their wands out and aimed at Harry.

Harry managed to duck just as another popping sound, sounded over him, and Mr. Riddle appeared. Harry looked up at his father and felt his heart turn cold. Mr. Riddle looked livid.

“STUPEFY!” roared twenty voices—there was a blinding series of flashes, and Mr. Riddle whipped his wand, causing all of the spells to soar into the air.

“How dare you aim your wands at my son!” Mr. Riddle yelled.

“Out of the way, Mr. Riddle,” said a curt voice. It was Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them.

“He done it!” Crouch snapped. “He conjured the Dark Mark!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Harry yelled.

“Do not lie, sir!” Mr. Crouch shouted. Mr. Riddle trained his wand at Mr. Crouch. He took a step forward and the other Ministry Wizards trained their wands on him, but did nothing.

“Do not accuse my son,” Mr. Riddle whispered. “Harry, where is your wand?”

“I—I don’t know, I don’t have it,” Harry said.

“A lie—”

“I told you to be quiet,” Mr. Riddle threatened. His wand was now pressing against Mr. Crouch’s throat. He turned back to look at Harry. “You lost it?”

“Yeah…”

“Where did you see the spell happen?” Mr. Riddle asked.

“I don’t know—it sounded like it came from over there,” Harry pointed to where he heard the voice. A few Ministry wizards went towards where Harry pointed.

Five minutes later, they came back carrying the Unconscious body of a house-elf. Harry recognized it immediately from the Top Box. Mr. Riddle moved away from Crouch, who looked horrified and white faced at the house-elf and moved to another Ministry wizard. In the group of muggles is the one I brought with myself and my son. His name is Logan, boy Harry’s age but he looks older. Muscular. Bring him here.”

The worker ran off. Mr. Riddle returned to his son and bent to check on him. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

Harry nodded and frowned, “Daddy, I just want to go home.”

“I understand, let me get your wand first,” Mr. Riddle took his wand and said in a loud, clear voice, “ _Accio Harry’s Wand!”_

They expected for Harry’s wand to fly somewhere from the ground or the forest, but all of them were shocked as the wand flew from the unconscious body of the elf. “Gulping gargoyles!” a wizard gasped.

Mr. Riddle frowned and looked at the elf. “Crouch, I believe that is your elf,” he said, looking up at the man. “Would you care to explain?”

Mr. Crouch stayed silent. “Pity… ah, there’s Logan,” Mr. Riddle turned to see the wizard helping Logan limp towards them. He looked to be in constant pain, his feet were facing inward. Both Mr. Riddle and Harry frowned at that. “Logan, do not worry,” Mr. Riddle said, “you’re going home now.”

He gave Harry back his wand, grasped onto Logan firmly then, without asking for anyone’s permission, the three Apparated away.

Safely in the Riddle Manor, Harry hugged Logan and whispered, “I’m so sorry Logan. I didn’t want this to happen.”

Logan just grunted in pain as Mr. Riddle laid him on a guest bed. Sirius walked inside just as Mr. Riddle began tending to Logan. “What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“My old followers decided to show their loyalty to me,” Mr. Riddle said angrily. “I swear the first one to walk through my doors will get killed—look at what they’ve done to Harry’s boyfriend!” He pointed to Logan’s feet. “They contorted his body.

“No!”

Harry frowned. He didn’t want to tell them about his and Logan’s relationship now. He just felt overwhelming guilt. If he hadn’t walked away—if he hadn’t invited Logan to watch the game at all, he wouldn’t be in this mess. Tears started to slowly come back.

“He’s going to have to stay here for the night,” Mr. Riddle said. “I don’t feel like listening to his father’s complaining that we sent him home broken. Harry, are you okay? You don’t need to cry, he’s going to be alright.”

Harry sniffled and looked up at Mr. Riddle. “Daddy…”

“We’re not… we’re not dating,” Logan’s voice croaked, getting the adults’ attention. “Harry’s… too good for me. …He deserves better.”

“Logan!”

“I’m sorry Harry, really,” Logan said, his voice weakening, “I don’t wanna lose you…” He fell silent as his eyes closed. Icy cold dread washed over Harry until he saw the boy’s chest moving rhythmically. Harry frowned as he stared at the boy.

“Explain,” Mr. Riddle said softly.

“He tried to be gay for me,” Harry said. “His family… they don’t like men showing emotions the way I do… Logan loves me but… he doesn’t know how to express it. So he tried the only way he knew.”

“By dating?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah but… he’s straight so it would never work. He doesn’t want to lose me and… under the influence of the Veela that the Bulgarians used as an opening act… he confessed that he wanted me to become a girl.”

“Disgustingly outrageous!” Sirius screamed out.

“It’s not his fault,” Harry screamed. “We—we loved each other but—but Logan…”

“Logan is a product of hyper-masculinity, is what I believe you are trying to say, Harry,” Mr. Riddle said. Harry nodded.

“How do you feel now?” Sirius asked.

“I don’t know… I want to be with him and I want to be alone at the same time,” Harry said.

“Then go,” Voldemort said. “Go to your room, I will watch over Logan.”

Harry nodded and left the room, retreating into his own where he stayed for the next few days. Even after Logan was better and left, Harry refused to leave. He had the elves bring him his meals, and he stayed in his room trying desperately to make heads or tails of the situation.

When it was only a couple of days till Hogwarts, Harry stepped out, only because he heard a voice he did not recognize. Sneaking around the corner, Harry looked down the stairway to see a man in rags, screaming at a house-elf to get the Dark Lord. “Tell him that I am here! Tell him that his faithful follower is here while the others ran away!”

From behind him, Harry heard his father’s annoyed sigh, “Oh for fuck’s sake… sorry Harry, I’ll deal with this.” Voldemort stepped around Harry and walked down the stairs slowly, his wand already out. “Barty Crouch Jr,” he announced. “You are supposed to be dead…”

“Master! Oh Master I have returned! The Dark Mark at the World Cup, that was me—that was me showing you my loyalty after all these years,” Crouch Jr. said.

Voldemort shook his head, his wand lazily pointed at his follower. “You are very talkative for a dead man… allow me to fix that. _Avada Kedavra!”_

There was a flash of bright green and Harry gasped as the man before them dropped dead.


	17. Confused Emotions

Ch. 17

Confused Emotions

The death hasn’t phased Harry at all. He just stared at the dead body of Barty Crouch Jr., feeling a sense of satisfied revenge when he realized that he was one of the people who tortured Logan in the air, and that was it. He did not, however, leave his room or the manor until it was time to go for the Hogwarts Express.

During the train ride, he kept mostly to himself as Draco, Blaise, and Theo sat with him, all talking about the World Cup. “Of course, my father wasn’t part of that mob,” Draco said, his eyes glancing hesitantly towards Harry.

Harry just nodded. Ever since the World Cup, he has felt off, as if he wasn’t fully himself. Everything around him just moved past him. And while he was moving with everyone else, there was just this barrier that separated Harry from the outside world. He could talk to it, interact with it, learn from it, but everything just seemed so distorted for him, so far away, as if he has isolated himself in his mind and shattered heart.

He was in a castle all of his own. A castle with unbeatably high and cramped walls tightly built together with windows serving as Harry’s view of the outside world. Sometimes he would try to tear down the walls surrounding him, he would scream and shout but the walls did not dare to move, they only rose higher and higher.

Harry barely registered the fact that Hogwarts was hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament, that Mad-Eye Moody was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the fact that there will be no Quidditch because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament or the lessons that he sat in during class. Everything that came to him: Lessons, jokes, Draco’s constant nagging, had to come to him either through the windows of his small castle, or up the long, high, overwhelming wall and down the same length to Harry.

So for the first two months, Harry walked around in his impenetrable castle. Then, Krum came.

The students of Hogwarts had their classes cut early on October the 31st in order to welcome the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang into Hogwarts for the tournament. There was a pleasant sense of anticipation that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Draco, and Blaise hurried down to the Slytherin Dungeon, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back upstairs into the entrance hall.

The Head of Houses were ordering their students into lines. They led them out in the front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

Harry registered all of this but, somehow, the cold did not chill him as it did Draco, the wind did not beat him the same as it did Blaise, and the moonlight did not touched him as it did Theo. Everything was blocked, deafened slightly, but his walls. He watched along with the rest of the school with amazement as a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soared toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. Out of the carriage came out a boy in pale blue robes, who bent forward, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage—a shoe the size of a child’s sled—followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman Harry has ever seen in his life.

 _Must be half a giant,_ Harry thought to himself as he watched the giant woman step down the golden steps. Dumbledore started to clap, the rest of the school followed. “My dear Madam Maxime,” Dumbledore said. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” and he bent to kiss an extended hand.

“Dumbly-dorr,” Madame Maxime said in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” Dumbledore said.

 _French,_ Harry thought to himself. And before he could help it, he thought of something that Logan once told him, “There are two people you should never trust: Those who dress like they are made of someone else’s money… and the French.”

Harry shook his head violently, his frown deepening. _Get him out of your head!_ He berated himself. He forced himself to pay attention and saw that about a dozen boys, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks.

“’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“he should be here any moment,” Dumbledore said. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” Madame Maxime said, “But ze’ orses—”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” Dumbledore said.

Harry stopped paying attention and, a few moments later, watched as Madame Maxime left with her students. The Hogwarts students started talking excitedly to each other, theorizing how Durmstrang will arrive. They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

Harry listened. Through his walls he heard a loud, eerie noise drifting towards them from the darkness; a muffled vacuum cleaner was moving along a riverbed.

“The lake!” Lee Jordan yelled, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water—except it wasn’t smooth at all. A ship sprung up suddenly, as if pulled from a wreckage at the bottom of the lake. It drifted towards the shore, then a few moments later they heard the sound of an anchor. There was a thud as a plank was lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle… but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. The man who was leading them, however, had sleek and silver, just like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied. Harry frowned. For some reason, the name sounded familiar. He could have sworn he could remember his Daddy complaining about a similar sounding name when he was young.

The two interacted but then, “…Viktor, come along, into the warmth …you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor had a slight head cold. …”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed Harry caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. The boy stopped for a moment and turned towards the group of Hogwarts students, earning a collected gasp, but his gaze, strangely, was fixated on Harry.

It was Krum.

The Hogwarts students filtered back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. They were all excited about Krum being at Hogwarts. Harry heard a group of several sixth-year girls frantically searching their pockets as they walked—

“Oh, I don’t believe it, I haven’t got a single quill on me—”

“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?”

“Honestly,” Harry heard Hermione say loftily. For some reason it made the Slytherin smirk just a little bit.

The Durmstrang students were still gathered around the doorway into the entrance hall, not knowing where they should sit. The students from Beauxbaton had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table.

Harry walked past the Durmstrang towards the Slytherin Table when he felt a hand on his arm. He stopped abruptly and turned around to see Krum holding him, smiling softly. “Hello again,” he said, his accent thick.

“H-Hello…”

“You are Harry Potter, correct?” Krum asked.

“Yes… but my name is Harry Riddle, I took my adoptive father’s name,” Harry said.

“I see… may I say you are a very pretty boy?” Krum asked. Harry blushed and smiled. “I do not see that other boy with you… the bulky-looking one.”

Harry’s smile quickly turned into a frown. “Him… he doesn’t go here,” he said sadly.

“Why not?”

“He’s a muggle… and my ex,” Harry said.

“I am very happy to hear that,” Krum smiled. “That means you are free, no? I saw you during the World Cup and couldn’t get your pretty face out of my head.”

Harry bit his lower lip and looked up at Krum. “I—that is—”

“Where do you sit around here? It looks all color coordinated,” Krum said, waving his hand around at the four tables.

Harry gave a slight chuckle and, despite himself, found himself smiling. “We sit according to which House we are sorted in. The green over there is Slytherin. Blue is Ravenclaw. Yellow is Hufflepuff. And red is Gryffindor.”

“And which one do you sit at?” Viktor asked. His grip on Harry’s arm loosened, but his hand stayed in place.

“Let’s see… I’m wearing green… so that would mean…”

“Slytherin,” Viktor said. “Then Slytherin is where we will sit. After you, my beautiful boy.”

“Oh, upgraded from pretty, have we?” Harry smiled. The two began their way to Slytherin Table. For some reason every word, every sound and motion Krum makes is just so clear to Harry. He could hear every intake of breath the boy makes, see every small movement, smell Krum’s fragrance which quickly intoxicated his head. It was as if Harry’s cramped castle never existed at all. With one small grip, Viktor has destroyed the walls Harry has spent so long building.

“Well, you are both a pretty boy, as well as a beautiful one,” Krum said. “You are better than any other person I’ve seen. Boy or girl.”

“So… which one do you see me as?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. “A boy or a girl?”

“A boy obviously,” Krum laughed. “You are clearly a boy to me, Harry, a boy who I hope will sit next to me.”

“Of course Krum,” Harry smiled.

“Please, Viktor.”

“Then Viktor, let’s sit down, I’m starving,” Harry said.

“Then I will fill you up, beautiful boy.” Viktor said.

“Now he’s calling me tiny,” Harry said. Viktor laughed. It was a beautiful laugh. Deep, masculine, able to shake Harry’s very core.

“No, no, it is just that you will need your energy Harry, to handle me,” Viktor smirked.

“Handle you? You’re very direct, aren’t you Viktor?” Harry asked. It was as if they were the only two at the Slytherin Table. The rest of the table, the Slytherins and Durmstrang students, even the Staff’s table, which was stretched with four more chairs added, disappeared to Harry as he and Viktor talked. Viktor leaned in towards Harry, his arms resting crossed on the table and smiled.

“I do not like to… how do you say… pussy around the bush,” Viktor said.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I think you mean beat around the bush,” he corrected, “or maybe pussyfooting around? They both mean the same thing.”

“Either way, you are beautiful, and my dreams were full of you,” Viktor said. “If I can be… what’s the word… forceful, I want to date you.”

“I—I don’t know,” Harry said, frowning slightly. “It’s just… Logan really messed me up. I don’t think—”

“If that muggle messed you but then allow me to build you up, beautiful boy,” Viktor said calmingly. “Please, or else you’ll always haunt my dreams.”

Harry smiled and looked up at Krum shyly. Chuckling to himself, he pushed into Krum just as food appeared in front of them. There was a greater variety of food, including several stuff that Harry has never seen before. Viktor, however, made an approving noise.

“Ahh! Yes,” Viktor said. “Eat this Harry, it is delicious” and he took Harry’s plate and put on sliced sausage. But it looked different to what Harry was used to.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Lukanka,” Viktor said. “It’s a sausage appetizer.”

Harry hummed and took a bite. It was spicy and made Harry moan a little. “That’s fu—pretty good,” Harry smiled.

Viktor chuckled. “Beautiful boys can curse Harry,” he said. Harry shrugged, “I don’t curse Viktor.”

“Then I will make sure to make you one day,” Viktor said as he gave Harry a lewd, meaningful look that made the fourteen-year-old blush.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. The Durmstrang students have removed their furs, revealing a bloodred uniform that clashed with the Green and black of Slytherin. Harry and Krum spent the feast trading food, both boys telling each other to eat certain types of food as they traded stories. The walls of Harry’s castle started to crack in front of him, and his scattered heart felt a dead-like hope starting to resurrect within him.

Once the golden plates have been wiped clean, Dumbledroe stood up. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight trill of excitement, wondering what was coming. At some point, Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman came in during the feast and were now stationed at the Staff Table.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start.  I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a loud round of applause, more for Bagman than Crouch.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

Dumbledore motioned for Mr. Filch to bring in the casket. Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways …their magical powers—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

Harry felt Viktor move and turned his head quickly to stare at him. Krum had a serious, confident expression on his face as he stared at Dumbledore and the casket.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: The Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visibly to everyone in the Hall.

“Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” Dumbledore said. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.”

Dumbledore sent them to bed with a warning that putting their name in the Goblet should be taken seriously. Viktor escorted Harry out of the Great Hall with the rest of the Slytherins, and stopped him before the boy began walking down the stairs.

“I know just how to show my seriousness,” Viktor said.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

Krum gave Harry a sweet smile and placed his hand gently under Harry’s chin. “I’ve dreamed of you every night since the game. I wanted to meet you, get to know you, date you, so, to prove to you I am serious, and I will be a good man, I will win this Triwizard Cup for you.”

“Viktor—”

“No complaining, my beautiful boy, my mind is made up,” Viktor said, giving Harry a confident smirk. “If you will have me, I will use this Triwizard Cup to prove to you that I am much more than that Muggle, whatever his name is.”

Harry’s walls were done, he felt defenseless yet utterly safe. He looked at the bulky form of Viktor, his hands reached up and slid across his arms, felt every muscle, every proof of hard work and dedication. His hands laid on Viktor’s muscular chest, so big yet soft—like two pillows made especially for Harry to grasp and lay on. He did just that, laying his head on Viktor’s chest as the Seeker wrapped his arms around Harry. Viktor’s heat engulfing Harry in a warm, comfortable state, Harry nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll be your beautiful boy,” He whispered. He looked up to Viktor’s steely gaze and felt the boy’s hand on his chin again. For a moment he thought they were going to kiss. He closed his eyes and leaned in for the contact, only to feel sweet, rough lips on his soft cheek. His eyes opened, confused, only to see Viktor smiling ruefully.

“I’ll kiss you properly, like how a boy is supposed to kiss a boy, once I be called champion,” Viktor promised before he slipped away, joining the other Durmstrang students.

Harry stood in his place, everything racing in his mind. He didn’t know what happened but… everything felt good.


	18. Goblet of Fire

Ch. 18

Goblet of Fire

Harry heard that Viktor and the other Durmstrang students all put their names into the Goblet of Fire before he could even wake up. Today was Saturday, so they did not have any classes. Harry was surprised when Viktor walked up to him and smiled, “Harry,” he said in his thick accent, “can you be a lovely boy and show me around your school?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry nodded. Viktor offered his hand and Harry held it as they walked out of the Great Hall. “So… where to first?” Harry asked.

“This is your castle, you show me,” Viktor chuckled.

“Alright…then… we’ll begin with my dormitory,” Harry smiled.

“Bringing me to your bed already, Harry? You naughty minx,” Viktor chuckled. Harry bit his lip to keep from blushing, but just smiled as he pulled Viktor’s muscular arm. He wondered briefly if Viktor had a similar musky smell like the McMann brothers. He wanted to just squeeze himself against Viktor and inhale every bit of him.

He led Viktor down into the dungeons and through the twists and turns that led to the Slytherin common room. Harry whispered the password and the stone wall slid open. He smiled at Viktor and pulled him into the common room. “We’re under the Black Lake,” he said. “It’s a bit creepy… but you get used to it.”

“Seems like it can be scary sometimes,” Viktor chuckled.

“Maybe, but if I have a pair of arms to hold me tight, I’m usually ok,” Harry flirted. Viktor pulled the small boy towards him, and Harry’s face was pressed against Viktor’s chest, inhaling his aroma.

“Like this?” Viktor chuckled.

“Mmm…”

“You like this, huh Harry?” Viktor smirked. Harry blushed and nodded. “Good to know,” Viktor chuckled. “Come, I want to see more of your castle.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. He led Viktor out of the Slytherin Common room and out of the dungeons. Next, he decided, he was going to bring Viktor to the Quidditch pitch. “It’s not as grand as the one for the World Cup,” Harry said as they walked across the field, overhead was an endless sea of clouds that moved like waves with every cold burst of air. Harry shivered in his cloak, but Viktor offered him some of his furs, “but it works.”

“Do you play Quidditch, Harry?” Viktor asked.

“Yeah, I’m a Seeker just like you,” Harry smiled. “But I’m obviously not as good…”

“But you have the body for it,” Viktor said. “You are small, lean… have a great butt, if you don’t’ mind me saying, you have the perfect body.”

“Viktor…” Harry blushed.

The Bulgarian smiled and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Would you like to play?” he asked.

“Play?”

“A quick game of Quidditch,” Krum said. “See who gets the Snitch first. We can make a small game out of it.”

“Really? How?” Harry asked.

Viktor gave Harry a mysterious, confident smile as he said, “Winner gets to have the loser do one thing for them.”

“Sounds interesting…” Harry said. He looked up at Krum and gave him a mischievous smile, “So I get to have you do anything for me if I win?”

“Just one thing Harry,” Viktor chuckled.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Harry asked. “If you win…”

“Let me see… you will wear my school’s uniform during the event tonight, I shall pick it,” Viktor said.

“Trying to convert me Viktor?” Harry joked.

“Only for you to be my boy, Harry Riddle,” Krum smirked. “I have told you, you were in my mind since we met, and now that you are free, I will do everything I can to catch you before another man takes you.”

“Viktor,” Harry said softly. He really felt touched at that moment, his hear jumping lightly as a smile played his face.

“There, there is the face of the beautiful boy who haunted my dreams,” Viktor smirked.

Harry gave a small blush as he bit his lip. “If I win,” he said softly, “I…I want you to teach me a word in Bulgarian.”

“Of course, any word you would want,” Viktor said.

Harry shook his head, “I’ll only tell you the word when I win,” he said.

Viktor gave the small boy a smirk, “Giving me incentive to lose, are you Harry?” he laughed.

Harry just smiled innocently as he took out his wand. “I’ll use my own broom of course,” he said. “I’m not sure if you brought yours.” He aimed his wand high into the air and yelled out, “ _Accio Firebolt!”_

Viktor watched amused as a moment later, Harry’s Firebolt came flying towards them, stopping perfectly in front of its master. “You have a Firebolt,” he stated.

“Yeah, gift from my Daddy,” Harry smiled. Viktor smirked at this and chuckled. “I feel at a disadvantage,” he said.

Harry shrugged as he got on his broom, feeling very confident and flirty. “Then I guess you aren’t as great of a man than I thought,” he said.

“Careful little Riddle, or I will show you exactly how much of a man I am,” Viktor growled out. Harry stuck out his tongue as Viktor went to pick out a broom. He came back later two minutes later holding a Nimbus. “Ready, little Riddle?” He asked.

“Of course, Viktor,” Harry smirked, hovering two feet off the ground. Krum chuckled at Harry’s antics and got on the broom. He pushed off and hovered to meet Harry’s height and pulled out his wand. Without speaking, he flicked his wand and a ball of golden light shot out of it, looking like a fake Snitch.

“First one to get it wins, ready?” Viktor asked. Harry nodded. “Go!”

They both sped off. It was clear to Harry why Viktor was as good as he was. He was faster than Harry on a broom, able to be more precise with his turns. Though the Nimbus was slower, Krum’s handling allowed him to keep up with Harry as the Slytherin flew around the field, chasing the fake snitch. They flew head-to-head for twenty straight minutes, for some reason Harry felt like Krum was holding back on him. The gold spark never left Harry’s vision as he and Viktor flew around the field. Harry wondered how they were supposed to catch it as they were closing in. He looked, for a second, at Viktor to see a handsome smirk on his face, his hand outreached. Harry, taking his cue, reached out his hand too for the fake snitch. They flew closer and closer, Harry leaned in so close to his broom that his chest was pressed against it until his fingers could feel the sparks the fake snitch was giving out. He closed his hand and felt a strange warmth before the fake snitch disappeared.

The two stopped and Harry heard Krum clapping, “Way to go Harry, _otlichen, otlichen!_ Excellent, my Little Riddle!”

Harry smiled at Krum as they returned to the ground. “I won!” he cheered and Viktor pulled him into a tight hug, Harry’s face mashed against his chest and pits, smelling that familiar musk that he learned to love this summer. “But… you went easy on me,” he said, looking up from Viktor’s chest to his smirking face.

“Mayhap, or you have won out of pure skill and sexiness,” Viktor said. “I kept staring at your butt, your _zadnik_ , the entire time.”

“Perv,” Harry smiled and he lightly smacked Viktor’s stomach, only to feel more muscles.

“Only for you, _moeto sladko, seksi momche_ ,” Viktor smirked. Despite Harry not knowing what the words meant, he couldn’t help but blush.

“Anyway… I won so now you have to teach me a word in Bulgarian,” Harry smiled.

“What word, _momche_ ,” Viktor asked.

“Daddy,” Harry said.

“Daddy?” Viktor chuckled.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I want to know how to say Daddy in Bulgarian. You will teach me, won’t you Viktor?” Harry looked up at Krum, his lips plumped out a little and eyes wide and innocent. Viktor swallowed heavily, and Harry felt something grow against him. He just continued to smile as he wrapped his arms around Viktor, feeling the comfortable muscles. “Please Viktor,” he begged. “Teach me.”

 _“Ta—tatko,”_ Viktor stuttered.

 _“Tatko…”_ Harry repeated perfectly. He stared into Krum’s eyes, brushing his body against his, as he whispered, “Thank you, _Tatko.”_

 _“Momche,”_ Viktor growled out. He bent to kiss Harry, but the Slytherin slipped away, smiling naughtily. “You told me _Tatko_ , that you weren’t going to kiss me properly until your name gets called from the Goblet of Fire,” he said.

“Of course,” Viktor said. “And afterwards Harry, your Tatko will you what happens _when malki momcheta ne se podchinyavat na tatko si.”_

Harry felt his own pants tighten and bit his bottom lip as Krum continued to give him a smoldering look. His voice unusually high, Harry said, “Let’s go and look at the castle,” and turned away.

Viktor caught up with him and took his hand again. “Show your _Tatko_ the rest of your castle, Harry,” he smiled.

“Yes _Tatko_ ,” Harry said.

He and Viktor spent the rest of the day walking around the castle. They talked endlessly about their schools. Harry was fascinated about Durmstrang’s stance on Dark Arts and how it teaches the students openly about it. “I mean, how do you know how to fight against it if you don’t know what it is?” Viktor asked. “Your school… it makes no sense that way.”

“My Dad teaches me the Dark Arts whenever he can,” Harry said. “He thinks that it would be best if I know.”

“Your father sounds like a smart man, and looks smart too, from what I remember of the World Cup,” Viktor said. “Though, I must admit, I had eyes only for you. …I think I am using that right.”

“You are,” Harry chuckled. He thought for a moment then turned to Viktor, “Can I go and write a quick letter to my Dad? I haven’t written to him yet in a week,” he said.

“You keep in regular touch with your father?” Viktor asked.

“Of course I do,” Harry said.

“Good,” Viktor said. “My mother always tells me; a good son always writes back home.”

“Then I must be a very good son, _Tatko_ , for I write to my Daddy every week,” Harry said, smirking at Krum.

Krum laughed, “Good _momche_ ,” he said, and the two were off to the owlery. Harry called Arc, his owl, down and Viktor marveled at the bird. “I never seen a bird with such black feathers before,” he said, looking at Harry.

Harry just smiled, “Arc is a special owl, aren’t you boy?” he said, before turning to his letter, which he wrote quickly.

_Dear Daddy and Sirius,_

_I’m fine. At Hogwarts we are hosting the Triwizard Tournament, students from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton have come with their headmasters Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. Later tonight, there will be a ceremony where the Goblet of Fire will choose the three champions to represent their schools. Not to be mean, but I heard Warrington has put his name in and I really hope he doesn’t get chosen, he’s a bit of an idiot._

_Anyway, you will never believe who came with the Durmstrang students! It’s Viktor Krum! From the World Cup! He’s so handsome and charming and sweet and smart, and he knows how to treat me right and make me laugh—we started dating, if it wasn’t obvious. I know that we’re acting way too fast but after Logan… I need a man to take care of me Daddy. And I hope for Viktor to be that man. He’s strong and muscular like Logan and smells like him too but… Viktor treats me like the boy I am, instead of trying to turn me into something I can never become. I don’t know or care if what I’m doing is unhealthy, I need Viktor._

_Anyway… I know that you two might hate him but, how is Logan? I haven’t had one letter from him since school started. Is he alright? Is he healthy? Has he… moved on? Please, just tell me, for my sake._

_I love you both very much,_

_Harry_

“Done,” Harry sighed. He rolled up the letter and moved to Arc and Viktor. The boy was currently petting the owl, Arc hooting happily. “Arc, I need you to get this to Daddy, okay? I’m sure if you get it there before dinner, Daddy will feed you extra treats,” Harry said happily. He placed his letter in Arc’s pouch. The owl gave a soft hoot and jumped into the air, flying rapidly into the sunset.

“Sorry about that, I just didn’t want to miss it,” Harry said.

“Don’t worry about it Harry,” Viktor said. “I think it is cute, how you are so close with your father.”

Harry smiled and looked around. “The feast should begin soon… So how about we go…”

“Viktor there you are, I have been searching everywhere,” a man’s voice said. The two turned to see Professor Karkaroff walking into the Owlery. “Ohh, Potter… Viktor, come back to the boat, we must prepare for the choosing,” Karkaroff said, giving Harry a distasteful eye before turning to Viktor.

“I will be back shortly,” Viktor promised. Karkaroff gave Harry one last look before leaving, his robes sweeping behind him. Viktor turned to Harry and frowned, “Why did he call you Potter instead of Riddle? That is disrespectful.”

“I’m used to it,” Harry sighed. “You should leave, I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“Nonsense my _momche_ ,” Viktor chuckled. “You do not need to worry about me. Professor Karkaroff would never punish me.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Harry smiled. He got on his toes and kissed Viktor’s cheek. Giving the older boy a cheeky smile, he said, “I’ll see you later Tatko.”

Viktor chuckled and hooked an arm around Harry. “ _Bŭdi dobro momche za tatko,”_ he said roughly before kissing Harry’s forehead, pressing his lips hard against Harry. Harry smiled and watched his _Tatko_ go before deciding to make his way to the Slytherin common room.

 

When Harry entered the Great Hall with the rest of Slytherin House it was filling up quickly. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore’s empty chair at the teacher’s table. When the Durmstrang students came in, Viktor took his seat next to Harry.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, harry didn’t seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Harry simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” Dumbledore said. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the campions’ names are called, please come to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber”—he indicated the door behind the staff table—“where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Harry gripped Viktor’s hand in anticipation as the two waited.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttering out of it—the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

“Yes!” Harry cheered as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor turned Harry on the spot and locked lips with him. Viktor’s lips had a rough edge to it, hardened, dominating, yet still soft somehow. Their kiss only lasted a second, however, as Viktor stood with a wink and walked towards the staff table straight-back, turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” Karkaroff boomed so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. Dumbledore took the second piece of parchment that burst from the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” he said, “is Fleur Delacour!”

A girl that surprisingly resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blond hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. When she vanished into the side-chamber, silence fell again.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Harry felt a feeling of relief flood over him as every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table.

“No! Why stinking Hufflepuff,” Draco complained to Harry.

“As opposed to what? Warrington? He’s the biggest idiot I’ve ever met!” Harry laughed.

“Still… damn Hufflepuff…”

Harry just laughed as the noise died down, he returned to his seat as he only half-listened to Dumbledore. It did not matter in that moment what the Headmaster said for all Harry could think of was Viktor’s aggressive lips smashing against his, and how he wanted more of it. Now.


	19. First Task Kisses

Ch. 19

First Task Kisses

Harry waited just outside the entrance hall for Viktor to return. He wanted to feel Viktor’s lips mashed against his, he wanted Viktor’s weight pressed against him, he wanted to be absorbed into Viktor’s very presence he missed him so much. It was near midnight when the great wooden doors opened, and the three champions walked out.

“Viktor!” Harry shouted as he jumped to his Bulgarian. Viktor caught him easily, and the Slytherin mashed his lips against Viktor’s, his arms wrapping around the older boy’s neck as his legs wrapped around his waist. “Congratulations,” Harry smiled.

“Harry, why are you up so late?” Viktor chuckled.

Harry blinked innocently before kissing Viktor again, “Because I wanted to tell you how happy I am that you’re a champion,” he said. “And I miss you pressed against me already.”

“Harry, my little boy,” Viktor chuckled. It was just the two of them now, Cedric and Fleur leaving awkwardly when the couple started kissing. “You make me worry, standing all here alone.”

“I was waiting for you, Viktor,” Harry smiled. “I just want your lips against mine.”

“So it is just for kissing that you wait?” Viktor asked.

“No… it’s for more than kissing,” Harry breathed.

Viktor swallowed heavily. He snaked his hands under Harry’s butt, one of them pinching hard. “If I had my way,” Viktor’s deep voice vibrated against Harry’s body, “I would ravish you tonight in celebration. But for now… this will do.” He pushed their bodies against the wall and assaulted Harry’s lips with his own. Harry moaned at being man-handled so roughly, it felt as though Viktor was taking all control the small teen ever had, and Harry wanted to give it all away under Viktor’s practiced lips and rugged hands. Harry melted with every kiss and squeeze Viktor gave him. He opened gladly when Viktor’s tongue demanded entrance and fell into the Drumstrang’s control. The pressure of the wall on his back vanished, but Harry did not care. His eyes closed and moaned left his puffed-lips as Viktor began kissing and nipping his neck.

“You are beautiful Harry,” Viktor rumbled against Harry’s neck, “so beautiful.”

“Please,” Harry panted.

“No,” Viktor chuckled, “Not yet… too soon, my boy.”

“Daddy—”

“You need sleep Harry,” Viktor whispered, “as do I. I promise soon, if you want it, we shall… come together. But for now, my little boy, your Daddy commands you to sleep.”

Harry gave a protesting-kind of mewl but nodded. He rested his head against Viktor’s neck, still holding on tight. “I don’t wanna leave you yet tonight,” he whispered.

“Which is why I shall carry you down to your common room,” Viktor said. “I believe I remember the way.” Harry just nodded, and Viktor began to walk. The two stayed quiet as Viktor made his way through the maze-like dungeons, getting lost for only a moment or two, but found his way with some helpful directions from Harry. Despite his want to stay with Viktor, and excitement for his boyfriend, Harry found that he was quickly growing tired. When they finally stopped in front of the stone wall that led to the Slytherin Common Room, Harry was yawning heavily.

Viktor chuckled at this, “Goodnight, Harry,” he said, setting the Slytherin to his feet.

“Night Viktor,” Harry said. He leaned up for one more kiss, which Viktor gave him. “Go directly to sleep, little boy, I will know if you don’t,” Viktor chuckled.

“Alright,” Harry yawned. He turned and muttered the password, the wall slipping open. “Goodnight,” Harry said again, and he watched Viktor disappear behind the stone wall as he walked through it.

Harry did not know how he got to bed that night, he just remembered falling to sleep in his bed, a hand pressed carefully on his chest, but he missed a set of silver eyes who stared at him longingly and jealousy, as he carried his friend to bed.

 

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, he felt an air of confusion and excitement. For one thing, he could not wait to spend another day, even if it is just an afternoon, with Viktor, but on the other he could not remember how he got into bed. He was even in the same clothes.

“Morning,” Draco said as Harry slipped out of his bed. “Forgot what pajamas are, Riddle?” he teased.

“Ha ha… sorry just went to bed late,” Harry said. “Must have forgotten to change my clothes. Strange though, I don’t remember getting into bed.”

“Strange,” Draco said. “Anyway, want to do our homework in the library? I need help with Defense’s homework, and I positive that you have not done Snape’s essay in the lightest.”

“I’ve… started on it… I hope,” Harry said. Draco gave a warm laugh and smiled, “Then come on, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

“Lead the way then,” Harry said.

The two got ready for the day, dressed, then brought their bags with them downstairs to the Great Hall. The Durmstrang students were already there, Viktor sitting next to Harry’s normal seat.

“Good morning, Harry,” Viktor chuckled as Harry sat down, kissing him lightly.

“Good morning Viktor,” Harry flirted. “What are you going to do today?”

“It is Sunday, the others, they are resting like lazy dogs, but I need to keep fit,” Viktor said. “Need to prove to my boy how much of a man I am,” he joked. Harry giggled, both ignoring the light sneer and rolled eyes from Draco. “So I will look for ways to keep my body perfected.”

“Great,” Harry smiled. “I wish I could watch you, but Draco and I are going to the library for homework.”

“And you should,” Viktor said. “I don’t want my little boy to slack on his studies.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” Harry smiled.

Draco muttered something, but again neither of them heard it. Even though it was Sunday, Harry looked up and smiled when he saw Arc flying towards him, his jet-black wings clashing against the sunny sky. The owl landed in front of Harry and deposited the two letters before bouncing lightly to Draco, looking expectantly.

“Want some bacon boy?” Draco asked, breaking off a small piece of bacon and giving it to Arc. He leaned forward and whispered, “At least you know who treats the Riddle boys right.”

Harry immediately opened the two letters. It seemed that both Sirius and his Daddy had decided to write to him separately. Sirius’s was first, and it made Harry feel irritated.

_Harry,_

_What are you thinking? From the way you talk about this Krum boy, it is clear that you are not yourself and moving way too fast. You need to slow down, take a step back, and think to yourself: Do you like Krum because he is Krum, or do you like him because he is like Logan? Your father and I are extremely worried about you. Take a step back and reevaluate your relationship._

_Logan is doing fine from last I heard. His older brother Shawn actually came up here the other day asking for you. Our opinion on their father notwithstanding, it seems to me that the McMann brothers all care about you… though help me God if I can’t remember all their names. After the World Cup Logan spent his days in his room. He did not come out until September and the first thing he did was run to us but… you were already gone at that point. I didn’t answer it, but your father did. He seems confused, they all do. Logan won’t reveal why you and he stopped talking with each other, and Shawn and the others are just frustrated. Anyway, hopefully school is enough to distract them. Though, I must admit, your father still hates the father and after you left, he told me, in great detail, how happy he was that he will not be related in anyway to that boar-looking man._

_I am sure your father will tell you more about Karkaroff, but I will leave you with this: Stay away from the man. He is the only Death Eater who has ran away from the Dark Lord and lived._

_Sirius_

How dare Sirius tell Harry that his feelings for Viktor weren’t real! Harry glared at the piece of paper, willing it to turn on fire. However, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of heartbrokenness at the news that Logan was still keeping their relationship a secret, and that he was looking for a distraction. He still missed Logan dearly, even if the boy broke his heart. Giving a great sigh, Harry folded Sirius’s letter and leaned against Viktor, who automatically wrapped a muscular arm around him, as he opened his Daddy’s letter.

_Harry,_

_Do not go near Karkaroff. He is a Death Eater who somehow slipped away from me. He was captured at the end of the war, a year after I adopted you, I believe, he has sold away my faithful followers in order to gain his own freedom. Normally, I would have searched and killed him for his betrayal. However, I was busy with a sniveling baby named Harry, and by the time I could turn my focus on him, he ran too far away, to Durmstrang it seems. He always was a cowardly man._

_If you insist on continuing this relationship with Viktor Krum, then you must promise me to keep away from Karkaroff. I do not want him getting suspicious. If he gets even an inkling that you are my son, specifically the son of Lord Voldemort, then he will either do something very stupid, or very cowardly. I do not want him to run away, yet I also do not want him to harm you. I have stayed my hand with Logan because he is your friend, but Karkaroff is different. I will personally kill him in the Great Hall if he touches a hair on your head._

_As for your friend, I have news. I have braved against that disgusting, hideous sack of fat they call a father and visited the home. To be precise, I have visited their home when I knew that the monstrous, disgusting, odious, obese walrus would not be there. Logan seems to have refused to leave his room for most of the summer, and even now will only leave for school._

_However, I am sure that you do not want to know more about him. More importantly, I want you to keep vigilant. I do not feel safe with Karkaroff and Moody in the same school as you._

_Love,_

_Your Father_

Harry gave another soft sigh. _At least Dad is okay with our relationship,_ he thought to himself. “You sound happy,” Viktor chuckled.

“I am, Dad’s alright with our relationship… though Sirius thinks we’re moving too fast,” Harry said.

“Too fast? When you control how far we go?” Viktor chuckled. Harry blushed and just shrugged. “You want to slow things down?” he challenged Viktor.

“Absolutely not,” Viktor said, and he kissed Harry for emphasis.

“Harry,” Draco broke in, “we should go now, we have a lot of work to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” Harry pouted. He turned and smiled at Viktor, “I’ll see you later,” he promised and kissed Viktor’s cheek as he stood up.

“Be good Harry,” Viktor chuckled. Harry smiled and waved goodbye as he and Draco left the table. For some reason Harry thought that Draco was in a bit of a sour mood.

“You okay Draco?” Harry asked as they began to ascend the stairs.

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes—Harry, I just want to get my homework done, okay? I don’t want any the teachers on my case,” Draco said.

“Alright, that’s fine,” Harry said. He smiled, his thoughts going to Viktor and wondering what types of exercising he will do, as Draco just stared ahead of them bitterly.

When they got into the library, however, both their attitudes changed as they focused on their homework. They thought that it would take them for most of the morning, but when Harry put his quill down, his hand sore from writing, it was already dark outside. “Strange, we’ve been here all day,” Draco said.

“Oh no!” Harry said, “I hope Viktor didn’t think I left him or anything…”

“He knows that you are busy with school,” Draco said a bit coldly. “Besides, you shouldn’t just focus on him all day. …Your Dad will be angry if your grads slip because of a boy.”

“I guess you’re right,” Harry said. “Still, I feel bad for spending all day in the library.”

“I’m sorry to be awful company then,” Draco said.

“Draco, I didn’t mean it that way!”

“It’s fine Riddle, I know how you meant it,” Draco said as he packed his books. “Now, if you excuse me, I will be going to scrounge some food.”

Harry frowned, but did not dwell on it. He did not know why Draco was so moody.

 

The rest of the week, Harry has developed a nice schedule of going to class and hanging around with Viktor. The Bulgarian loved hearing about Harry’s lesson as they sit by the Black Lake, Harry usually resting on the taller teen. On Friday, Harry was walking dreadfully towards Potions when he was stopped by Mr. Bagman. “Harry! Harry I wanted to stop by you,” Mr. Bagman said cheerfully. “I hope you are not too busy here.”

“I was heading towards Potions with Professor Snape actually,” Harry said.

“Potions huh? Perfect, I’m sure your Head of House would allow me to borrow you for a spell, come on then!” the man said cheerfully. Harry nodded, looking at the man confused, but led him towards the Dungeons. The classroom was mostly full as Harry and Mr. Bagman walked in.

“Riddle… you’re late,” Snape sneered.

“So sorry Professor Snape, but I had a thought of young Harry here to help me with a small task of official Triwizard Cup business,” Mr. Bagman said. “He won’t be gone for ten, maybe twenty minutes. He will be back before you know it.”

Snape’s lip curled. “And what is so important… that Mr. Riddle needed to miss my lesson?” he asked.

“Why he just needs to gather the three champions for the weighing of their wands,” Mr. Bagman said excitedly, “and a photograph or two—but I am sure young Harry here will be back here to brew your potions before that.”

“He better… Mr. Riddle we will be brewing the antidote recipes we all have prepared beforehand… for your sake, I hope that your recipe works,” Professor Snape threatened.

“I am sure that his will, even with a half-hour delay,” Mr. Bagman said cheerfully. “His father told me many wonderful things about his potion-making abilities.”

“Oh really…” Snape said, crossing his arms looking unimpressed.

“Yes,” Mr. Bagman smiled. “Well, Young Riddle will be back soon, good-bye.”

He dragged Harry out of the room and slapped his back goodheartedly. “Well, time to run, Harry,” he chuckled. “Mr. Krum and Miss Delacour are in their ship and carriage I believe, while Cedric Diggory is in class… Transfiguration I think… well, find them and tell them to come to the small classroom to the right of the entrance hall—I should show you just in case.”

Mr. Bagmen led Harry out of the dungeons and into the entrance hall. They went to the room to the right of the entrance hall and Mr. Bagman opened the door. “This is where you need to tell them to come to Harry—oh good the Daily Prophet reporter is already here, would you like to meet her? She is very talented—oh Rita! Miss Seeker!”

Harry’s attention came to a witch wearing magenta robes. “She is doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet…” Mr. Bagman said.

“Maybe not _that_ small, Ludo,” Rita Skeeter said, her eyes on Harry. Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

Mr. Bagman looked between her and Harry and laughed, “No, no, no Miss Skeeter, Harry here isn’t a champion! He is much too young! No, he is just gathering them for me.”

“Too young! That has never stopped the boy before from what I hear,” Rita Skeeter said, smiling. Harry was sure he saw a glint of a gold tooth. “Fantastic to see you at last Harry Potter, the boy who has beaten You-Know-Who as a baby… I am certain that our readers would love to hear your take on these events.”

“Err…”

“A wonderful idea,” Mr. Bagman smiled, “but first, he needs to go and get the champions!”

“Such a shame that young Harry Potter isn’t a champion,” Skeeter sighed dramatically, “that would have added a lot of color to this story.”

“It’s… Riddle actually,” Harry said.

“Excuse me?”

“My last name,” Harry said. “It’s Riddle. I have my adopted father’s last name.”

“Oh… well Mr. Potter, I cannot wait for your interview,” Rita Skeeter said, completely ignoring Harry. She turned to Mr. Bagman and said, “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if he was included in the photo as well…”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Bagman said, “this is supposed to be about the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Nonsense Ludo, nonsense, they will have their moment,” Skeeter laughed.

Harry edged away backwards towards the door until he was able to slip out. He felt like he never wanted to be near that Skeeter woman. Since he was already in the castle, Harry decided to go to Cedric first. He made his way quickly to the Transfiguration classroom on the fourth floor. He knocked on the door and waited a second before stepping in, “Professor McGonagall?” he said as he opened the door.

Her classroom had a mixture of students from all four Houses, all of them in different states of transfiguring their fingers into feathers.

“Yes Mr. Riddle, is this important?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Mr. Bagman wants the Champions downstairs to weigh their wands,” Harry said. “I think there’s also a photoshoot… there’s a woman dressed like a crocodile with red nails down there.” His comment earned him some laugh from the class, though Professor McGonagall frowned.

“I see, very well Cedric, make sure you smarten up,” Professor McGonagall said. “If you are not back before class is over, Miss. Chang will give you your homework.”

“Yes Professor,” Cedric said. He stood up and smiled at Harry as he shouldered his bag. Harry smiled back, hiding a blush as the handsome teen came closer to Harry. “Lead the way, Harry,” Cedric said friendlily.

“Alright,” Harry nodded. He closed the door behind him and the two started down the corridor towards the staircases.

“So Harry… you’re dating Krum, correct?” Cedric asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry nodded.

“So… can I ask who you’re rooting for? Hogwarts or Durmstrang?” Cedric asked.

“Hogwarts of course,” Harry said. “I might be dating Viktor but I still want you to win.” He gave Cedric a sweet smile, his emerald eyes dazzling slightly as he looked at the taller teen. “So no pressure.”

Cedric chuckled. “Thanks Harry, I feel none. Tell me though, do you smile like that to all the boys?”

“Only the handsome ones,” Harry said, winking at Cedric. The teen blushed but said no more. They walked down to the entrance hall and Harry waved Cedric good-bye with a “good luck.”

He then went outside and towards the Forbidden Forest where the Beauxbatons’ carriage was sitting. He wanted to go to Viktor last so he could walk with him. Harry walked up to the large light-blue carriage and knocked on the door. A boy with feminine looks opened it, he looked to be a couple of years older than Harry. He spoke in French, much to Harry’s annoyance (he still believes what the McMann boys told him about the French). But still he smiled nicely, posturing himself casually so the sunlight hit his glasses and eyes just so that they looked like two shining emeralds of a deep green.

“Umm, Mr. Bagman needs Fleur Delacour for the wand weighing,” he said sweetly, keeping eye contact with the feminine looking boy. It did not matter what type of boy or man they are, Harry has learned through his many years how to charm them all. “Can you please go get her for me please?”

Blushing deeply, the boy nodded and ran off. Harry smiled after him and waited. Five minutes later the boy appeared again with Fleur Delacour. “He tellz me zat I am needed?” she asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “Mr. Bagman wants all the champions together for wand weighing and a photograph. You have to go to the small classroom to the right of the entrance hall, it is the first door you’ll see.”

“Zank you,” Fleur thanked him, and she walked passed Harry. Harry turned to move when the boy said in a broken English, “My name iz Gabriel…”

“Hi Gabriel, maybe I’ll see you again, but I have to go” Harry smiled. The boy nodded dimly and closed the door, but Harry was sure that he was still watching Harry as the young teen made his way to the Black Lake where Durmstrang’s ship was docked. He walked up the plank, only to be stopped by a couple of burly-looking boys twice Harry’s height and size. “Vat you want?”

“I’m looking for my boyfriend Viktor,” Harry said. “Mr. Bagman needs all the champions right now.”

“Harry? Is that you?” Viktor asked. Harry looked passed the boys to see Viktor walking up towards him. They shared a smile and Viktor said, “Let him passed, he is my boy.”

Looking reluctant, they moved to the side and Harry walked up to Viktor, kissing him eagerly. _I am not using him to replace Logan,_ Harry thought to himself. _Sirius is wrong, I like Viktor for who he is._

He felt Viktor’s arm snake around his waist. “What are you doing here, little Riddle?” Viktor chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Yeah but it’s Potions—ow!” Viktor has spanked him. “I’m doing a favor for Mr. Bagman, he wants all the champions together. Come on, I’ll take you there. And that hurt.”

“It’s supposed to,” Viktor chuckled, the two boys chuckling at Harry’s hurt face. “Come on Harry, I’ll make it feel better on the way.”

“You better,” Harry muttered as they walked down the plank. Viktor again chuckled and placed his thick hand on Harry’s ass, kneading it between his fingers as they walked. It felt good, really good, and Harry let Viktor know about it audibly. Viktor smirked at the response he was getting from the boy and spanked him again before kneading his small ass.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Viktor said. “Like a beautiful singer.”

“Viktor,” Harry moaned, his cheeks reddening. Viktor chuckled and continued to knead Harry’s butt in his hand, moving from one side to the other. “I cannot wait until we can do everything, Harry,” Viktor said. “On that night I will show you exactly how I will be your man and provide my pretty boy with everything he needs.”

“L-Viktor,” Harry said. “We’re getting close…” They reached the entrance hall but Viktor’s hand did not move from Harry’s butt. “The room is over there…”

“Show me boy,” Viktor commanded.

“Yes Daddy,” Harry groaned. Viktor chuckled and gave Harry’s ass as final spank. He pulled Harry directly to in front of the door, and pulled Harry up into a complete and dominating kiss. Harry jumped and wrapped his legs around Viktor’s waist as his hands entangled themselves in Viktor’s short hair. Both boys moaned softly, their tongues playing with each other, stiffnesses growing in their pants when suddenly the door flew open and there was a flash of light.

“My my Harry… now I really need to get your interview,” Rita Skeeter said. “I can see it all now: Harry Potter’s Confused Emotions: Stuck Between his Love For The Bulgarian Casanova and his School Loyalty, how his parents’ deaths affected his identification.”

“Wha—” And before Harry could respond or move away, Skeeter grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him in, Viktor following both looking amused and confused.

“Ludo,” Skeeter said, “Harry here has agreed to give a quick interview while your wand weighing goes on, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Hmm? Oh, not at all Rita, not at all, have fun Harry,” Mr. Bagman chuckled, smiling widely to both of them. Harry stared at him helplessly, shocked that he would not even argue. In fact, Harry noticed, only Cedric looked shocked and upset at this.

Skeeter brought Harry to a closet, “Well this looks roomy,” she said.

“It’s a broom-closet,” Harry said.

“Then you’ll feel right at home,” Skeeter said. She perched herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing Harry down onto a cardboard box, and closing the door, throwing them into darkness. “Let’s see now…”

She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag, and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with her wand and magicked into midair, so they could see what they were doing.

“You won’t mind, harry, if I use a Quick-Quote Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally…”

“A what?” Harry said.

Rita Skeeter’s smile widened. Harry counted three gold teeth, confirming what he thought earlier. She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which rolled out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She placed the quill upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

“Testing… my name is Rita Skeeter _, Daily Prophet_ reporter.”

The quill wrote by itself.

**_Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations—_ **

“Lovely,” Rita Skeeter said, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned towards Harry and said, “So, Harry… what made you decide to date your school’s opponent?”

“Er—” Harry said again, but he was distracted by the quill. Even though he wasn’t speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence.

**_An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes—_ **

“That’s not my name,” Harry said.

“Of course it isn’t, just ignore the quill, Harry,” Rita Skeeter said. “Why did you decide to date, what was his name… Victor Crum?”

“I didn’t decide to date him, it just happened—”

“Is this your way to join the Tournament in secret? We all know that you shouldn’t really have entered the tournament at all, but don’t worry about that. Our readers love a rebel.”

“I am not dating Viktor to sabotage him,” Harry said, looking offended. The quill continued to scribble.

**_A vixen after his own accord, Harry entangles Victor Crum in his emerald eyes, using him as a siphon for attention._ **

“I am not—”

“What do you think of the other champions Harry? Do you think that Hogwarts has a chance now? Or maybe they might do better letting you join?” Skeeter asked.

“I—Hogwarts will do fine I think, Cedric seems like a nice guy…”

“But not nice enough that you live your victories through him?” Skeeter asked.

“That is not why I’m dating Viktor! Besides, Cedric has a girlfriend,” Harry said.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you Harry,” Skeeter said lightly.

“I am NOT Jealous!” Harry said loudly.

Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Harry looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.

“Dumbledore!” Rita Skeeter cried with every appearance of delight—but Harry noticed that her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Rita’s clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her crocodile-skin bag. “How are you?” she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. “I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference?”

“Enchantingly nasty,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.”

“I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashion, Dumbledore, and the many wizards in the street—”

“I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita,” Dumbledore said, with a courteous bow and a smile, “but I’m afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and Harry needs to return to class, Potions, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said, looking completely relieved. Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, harry hurried back into the room and out the door. He ran back down to the dungeons and towards Snape’s classroom.

“You are late, Mr. Riddle,” Professor Snape said.

“I’m sorry sir,” Harry said, “things took longer than I thought—”

“I do not care for useless blubbering, Riddle! Your antidote will be the first to be tested. It better work satisfactory,” Snape said.

“Yes sir,” Harry sighed. He moved to his station next to Draco, and began to work, focusing on his antidote in order to forget everything about Rita Skeeter. Perhaps, in his free time, he would make a small poison for the woman. He was sure his father would be more than delighted to give him a recipe.

Harry and Viktor continued their daily dates, and before Harry knew it the new couple drifted away their days in bliss. The day before the First Task arrived, and Harry saw Viktor looking confident during his free period. “You look happy,” Harry said.

“I am,” Viktor smirked. “I am certain, boy, that your man will win the First Task.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Harry asked. They moved to a tree near the Black Lake and sat down, Viktor leaning on the tree as Harry sat on his lap.

“Because, my sweet boy, I have an advantage,” Viktor chuckled.

“Ohh… you going to tell me Viktor?” Harry asked, looking up at him. The older teen chuckled and wrapped his arms around Harry. “Pretty please Daddy,” Harry breathed, smiling when he felt Viktor’s stiffen.

“Alright boy… but only because I am a good Daddy,” Viktor chuckled. “You know that the First Task is tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“The person, what his name… bag something, has told us that we mustn’t know what the first task will be,” Viktor said. “It is to test our courage. Last night, however, Professor Karkaroff saw our task, and told me what it is, so that I can be better prepared. To show you how good of a man I am.”

“And what is it Daddy?” Harry asked. His mind worked quick and was surprised at how quickly he found he could morally betray Viktor’s trust. He turned around and saddled himself on Viktor’s waist, “well Daddy?” he asked, remembering various naughty conversations he had with the McMann brothers. “What is it?”

“Dragons, baby boy,” Viktor said. “We have to get pass them.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Harry said.

“No need to worry, your Daddy will win,” Viktor chuckled.

“I know you will,” Harry smiled. “And… after you do… I know the perfect way to _celebrate_ with you. I’ve never done it… but I hav—had friends at home who told me all about how to _use my mouth_.”

Both boys shared a perverted grin. “Harry… I am surprised,” Viktor said. “I thought you were a pure, innocent boy.”

“I’m far from innocent Viktor,” Harry purred. “But I’m always true to my feelings.” Viktor leaned forward but, for once, Harry stopped him. “I think Daddy that we should… save up, for after your first task. Give both of us something to look forward to.”

“You’re right,” Viktor said, his smirk growing. “You should practice tonight then, Harry, for tomorrow we shall see how good you are.”

“Then I better go start practicing Daddy,” Harry breathed, and he stood up from Viktor’s lap. “Good-bye,” he winked.

Harry walked his way to the castle then began a quick search for Cedric. He found him with the rest of the sixth-year Hufflepuff walking from the Great Hall. He followed them from a distance and saw that he was heading towards the Charms corridor. He pulled out his wand, and took careful aim.

_“Diffindo!”_

Cedric’s bag split. Parchment, quills, and books spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed.

“Don’t bother,” Cedric said in an exasperated voice as his friends bent down to help him. “Tell Flitwick I’m coming, go on. …”

This was exactly what Harry was hoping for. He slipped his wand back into his robes, waited until Cedric’s friends has disappeared into their classroom, and hurried up the corridor, which was now empty except for him and Cedric.

“Hi,” Cedric said, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered with ink. “My bag just split… brand-new and all …”

“Cedric, the first task is dragons,” Harry said. “I’m guessing there’s three of them, one for each, Viktor knows and I’m guessing Fleur knows.”

“How do you—”

“Viktor told me,” Harry said. “And I ran here directly looking for you. I told you, I may be dating him, but I still want Hogwarts to win.”

“Thanks, but how did—”

“Doesn’t matter, all that does is that your first task is Dragons. You’re going to have to get something that the dragon will be guarding, I don’t know what.,” Harry said. “I don’t think it’s exactly fair, you know, that Viktor and Delacour knows but you don’t. My dad told me to keep things as fair as possible, with keeping a little advantage to you.”

“And I’m guessing you’re my advantage?” Cedric asked. He looked amused.

“Of course,” Harry nodded. “Like I said, I want Hogwarts to win. Besides, having you in the dark is too much of an advantage for Durmstrang and Beauxbaton.”

He helped Cedric pick up the rest of his books and stitched his bag. “Thank you, Harry,… who knew a Slytherin could be so kind,” he said before his eyes widening when he realized what he said. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Harry chuckled. “I get what you mean. Anyway, dragons. Prepare for them.”

“I will.”

“Good,” Harry said, and he turned and left the corridor, Cedric watching him until he disappeared behind the corridor.


	20. Dragons and Dances

Ch. 20

Dragons and Dances

On the day of the first tournament, Harry was extremely worried. For some reason, all he could think of was how gracious he was that Skeeter did not publish the article about him. He supposed that her and the editor thought that if they did not have a picture of him, and only him, smiling for them then it wasn’t worth it. Or maybe Dumbledore bullied her to not publishing it. Who knows.

The champions were called down to gather for the first task at lunch time. Harry kissed Viktor goodbye and whispered, “Good luck,” as his boyfriend stood up.

“I do not need luck when I have a pretty boy on my side,” Viktor chuckled. “Just be sure to be there to congratulate me when I win.”

“Of course,” Harry smiled. _Though I hope Cedric gets the most points._

The crowd left half an hour later. They were escorted by the teachers outside the castle, down a path towards the forest edge, and as they round a clump of trees, Harry saw a tent, the entrance facing them and screening the enclosure and its dragons from view. They walked past the tent and Harry thought about how Viktor and Cedric were in there right at that moment. Stands have been erected around an empty enclosure. Harry looked around, wondering where the dragons were, as he and Draco followed the other Slytherins to one of the lower benches.  He saw Dumbledore, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff sitting in raised seats draped in gold. They were with Mr. Crouch and an empty seat Harry thought was for Mr. Bagman.

“I wonder what they’re going to face,” Draco said.

Harry opened his mouth to answer immediately, but there came shrieks of fear as the first dragon was pulled in. It had silvery blue scales, and bursts of a brilliant blue fire roared from its mouth as the Dragon Trainers escorted it into the enclosure to a nest of eggs, one of them golden. “What type of dragon is that?” Harry exclaimed.

“A Swedish Short-Snout,” Draco answered. “But what do you think they’re going to have to do?”

“Get the egg probably,” Harry said.

There was a whistle from somewhere the crowd erupted into loud applause and noises as Cedric walked in looking nervous and stiff-like. “Wonder what he’ll do,” Draco leaned towards Harry.

“I just hope he doesn’t get hurt,” Harry said.

“We’ll see,” Draco said.

Cedric stared down at the Dragon. Before the Swedish Short-Snout could see him, however, Cedric ran towards a near by rock and crouched behind it. Harry leaned forward as he watched Cedric pulled out his wand. There was a sizable rock next to Cedric. He pointed his wand at it and Harry watched as he made complicated movements. The rock began to rumble and twirled on the ground. The rock began to sprout fur and a tail, limbs grew until instead of a rock, a dog stood in its place. The dog began barking, and Cedric sent it out of the cover he was using. The dog started to run around the enclosure, unaware of the dragon.

The Hufflepuff peaked out of the corner. The dragon’s attention moved from the rock he was hiding in to the dog which ran to a side of the enclosure, barking at the stands. The people in front of the dog laughed and some tried to stick their hands down to pet it, before their hands were forced back inside the stands with a wave of Professor McGonagall’s wand. Cedric moved slowly as he crept towards the eggs. The Swedish Short-Snout has moved away from the nest, growling softly as it eyed the dog. When he was halfway across the enclosure, Cedric took the chance and began running. The dog gave a frightful yelp as it now noticed the dragon and began to run away. The dragon gave chase and Harry held his breath as Cedric reached the nest yet, at the last second, the dragon lost interest in the dog and turned towards the next. It quickly reclined and threw out it’s head, a surge of brightly blue flames fuming towards Cedric. Cedric grabbed the egg and tried to dodge as the flame got closer and closer.

The crowd shrieked as the fire caught Cedric, but just missed him. He rolled out of the way, golden egg in hand. The crowd erupted as Bagman shouted, “Very good indeed! And now the marks from the judges!” Harry did not even realized Bagman was commentating, he was too focused on Cedric. Harry leaned forward and gasped when he saw that Cedric’s face was burnt, but he was still smiling.

Madame Maxime was first. She thought for a second before raising her wand, a long silver ribbon shut out of it and twisted itself into a large figure eight.

The crowd applauded.

Mr. Crouch was next. He shot a number eight into the air.

Next, Dumbledore. He put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever. Harry thought he could hear every single Hufflepuff screaming themselves hoarse. Mr. Bagman gave him a ten which caused the Hufflepuffs to stomp and cheer, the rest of the Hogwarts students follow suit. Mr. Bagman smiled and waved his hand. And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too—three.

“THREE!? YOU COWARDLY TRAITOR!” Harry found himself yelling, caught in the moment, but thankfully only Draco heard him as he was practically screaming in his ear over the loud disagreement Hufflepuff was giving Karkaroff.

“Ow! That hurt,” Draco winced.

“Sorry… family business,” Harry said.

“Son of the Dark Lord yelling at old members now?” Draco asked, rubbing his ear.

“Something like that.”

“One down, two to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Fleur walked out into the enclosure as her dragon appeared with its golden egg. Draco leaned towards Harry to say it was a Common Welsh Green. Harry was surprised to see that Fleur walked up towards the Common Welsh Green directly, his hands to the side, fingers stretched out.

The dragon’s gaze was solely on her. Fleur then began to move her hands slowly, as if to make sure she has its entire attention. With her wand, she started a sort of charm. Around Harry he noticed that most of the boys were all staring at Fleur strangely, their eyes turning glassy. Harry looked at Draco to see that he had a puzzling look. “What is she doing?” he asked.

“I think she’s trying to charm it… she must be a veela,” Draco whispered back. Harry nodded and looked at the dragon. With every wave of Fleur’s wand and hands, its eyes became heavy. The dragon snorted and seemed to wake from the charm, breathing a quick spout of flame at Fleur which she jumped out of the way.

“Oh I’m not sure that way wise!” Bagman commentated.

She tried again, her wand aimed at the dragon, but just as it was about to go to sleep it woke again and swung it’s tail. “Oh… nearly! Careful now… good lord, I thought she had it then!”

Then on the third time Fleur was successful on charming the beast to sleep. She made her way to the nest and bent to pick up the egg, only for the dragon to snort in its sleep, catching her skirt on fire, which she put out with her wand.

“SHE HAS IT!”

Again, the stands cheered, and they grew silent as the judges gave Fleur her scores. Madame Maxime did not need to think as she threw up her wand instantly and a golden ribbon made out the number ten. Mr. Crouch thought for a moment before giving her a six; Dumbledore and Mr. Bagman both gave her sevens… and Karkaroff threw up a two.

“Watch,” Draco muttered bitterly, “He’s going to give Krum a ten.”

Viktor walked out just after his dragon, the Chinese Fireball, settled itself inside the enclosure. The dragon began an assault on Krum immediately, breathing and endless flame of fire at the Durmstrang as he ran to hide behind the same rock Cedric hid. _Is he going to try a similar trick,_ Harry wondered, but Krum just stood behind the rock, his large hand gripping his wand tightly. The dragon’s fire seemed to never stop as it stayed in its nest. Krum edged to the end of the rock and waited.

When he saw an opening. Krum jumped away from the rock and whipped his wand at the creature, saying something in Bulgarian that Harry didn’t understand. What looked like a blue stunner hit the Dragon in it’s eye and the Chinese Fireball roared in pain as both its eyes closed. It started to stomp around in a rampage, but Krum did not care a he ran straight towards the golden egg. He yelled and skid to a halt when a large dragon foot stomped in the nest, crushing half of the eggs, but the Golden Egg was left untouched as he grabbed it.

“A stunning show! Yes yes! However too bad about those eggs!” Mr. Bagman yelled. “Points will be deducted for that!”

Madame Maxine went first—a large seven made from a blue ribbon. Mr. Crouch gave Krum the same. Dumbledore and Mr. Crouch both gave Krum an eight as Professor Karkaroff gave him a full ten.

“TEN!?!” Harry yelled. “He broke the eggs!”

“Told you,” Draco shrugged. “Looks like Dumbledore’s the only one not playing favorites. Which is sad, it’s going to be hard for Diggory to win if Maxime and Karkaroff continues this.”

Harry just hummed. As Mr. Bagman stood up, motioning for the cheers to die down.

“And with that, ladies and gentlemen the first task is over!” he cried out. “I hope that you have enjoyed this spectacular show from your classmates! Give a round of applause for them all!” He paused as the stands roared. “Yes, yes! Congratulations to all of them! We shall reconvene with the Second Task on February the twenty-fourth! In the meantime, celebrate with your champions and continue to cheer them on!”

Mr. Bagman waved at the crowd one last time before he left the judges’ stands and bounced back into the tent where the three champions were collected. The crowd began to leave, Harry and Draco moving with the crowd before Harry tapped Draco’s shoulder, “I’m going to congratulate Viktor,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Draco nodded. Harry crept away from the group and towards the tent. He hid behind a nearby tree and waited.

Ten minutes later, the champions walked out, each holding their golden egg. Harry waited until Krum, who was last, was near his tree before he jumped out. “Daddy!” He cried out.

“Harry,” Krum chuckled. “Come here boy!” Harry jumped into Krum’s arms and they kissed deeply. “I hope you have enjoyed my show,” Krum whispered.

“The show is just beginning Daddy,” Harry chuckled. “Remember what I told you?”

Krum took a moment before leering down at Harry, “You naughty boy,” he chuckled.

“Come on then,” Harry smiled. “I’ve been dying to see it.”

They ran off away from the enclosure and the castle until they were certain that they were alone, and nobody could see them. Harry fell to his knees and took Viktor’s pants down with him. Harry did not know how big it would actually be, but he has been practicing so, for the next hour, Harry shown Viktor how exactly he learned how to use his mouth, eagerly swallowing every single adoration Krum gave him.

 

Harry and Viktor found a way to fit in their new activity in their schedule as much as possible. Sometimes they were in the Forbidden Forest, other times they were in an abandoned castle and rarely, when they’re feeling brave, they go on Viktor’s ship and have fun on the deck. Those were Harry’s favorite.

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty thought the castle always was in winter, Harry was glad of its fires and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime’s horses will provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful as they were tasked with tending these strange creatures called Blast-Ended Skrewts.

These creatures (of Hagrid’s invention) were incredibly dangerous. There was only ten of them now, all approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive thing Harry has ever seen.

Hagrid did not know whether they hibernated during the winter. They did not. The skrewts seemed to rather want to rampage through the pumpkin patch rather than sleep in the pillowed boxes Hagrid has built for them. Ten minutes into the lesson and most of the students, led my Draco, took shelter in Hagrid’s cabin leaving Harry the only Slytherin outside. Hagrid was not helpful, as he shouted, “Don’ frighten him, now!” as Harry and Ron used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing towards them.

Harry glanced at Hagrid for just a moment, doing his best not to scowl, as he looked at the skrewt again and whispered, _“Immobulus!”_ the blue freezing spell shot from Harry’s wand only to bounce off the skrewt’s armor. It slowed momentarily only to resume its advancement towards them.

They were backed into the wall of Hagrid’s cabin, holding off the skrewts with sparks. Hagrid managed to jump on the skrewt and flatten it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby. Hagrid slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt’s sting and tightened it, dragging it into the box.

“Bloody things…” Harry muttered. By the end of the lesson his robes were severely burned, holes appearing in random places from the skrewts’ fire.

By Thursday, he was able to mend the holes just in time for Professor McGonagall to make an announcement at the end of her lesson. “The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—”

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. Professor McGonagall ignored them.

“Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—”

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

“The Yule Ball is of course a chance for all of us to—er—let our hair down,” she said, in a disapproving tone.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny: Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

“But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall went on, “that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”

Next to him, Harry could hear both Blaise and Draco snickering to himself.

“And the same can be said with the Slytherins and Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini,” Professor McGonagall said.

The bell rang and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

“Harry, can we talk?” Draco said.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry smiled. The two followed the group of students out of the classroom and down the corridor until Draco pointed down another one. They separated from the group and walked a little. “So… the Yule Ball…” Harry said thoughtfully. “I guess now I know why my Daddy brought me that dress robe, huh?”

“Guess so,” Draco mused. “Hey Harry, about the Yule Ball…I know who I want to ask.”

“You do? That’s great,” Harry smiled. “I know who I’m asking too.”

“You do?” Draco asked. He had a hopeful expression that Harry missed.

“Of course,” Harry said, “although I think it should be Viktor asking me because he’s a Triwizard champion and all… anyway, who are you going to ask?”

“Ohh. Never mind,” Draco said. “It’s not important.”

“Yes it is,” Harry insisted. “Come on, you looked so happy to say it, so who is he?”

“No, no, it’s not important, listen I got to go to the library, I have Snape’s essay to finish,” Draco said quickly and he turned and walked away, leaving Harry alone and confused in the corridor. He frowned and thought about following his friend, only to run into Viktor at the end of the corridor.

“Viktor!”

“Hello my beautiful boy,” Krum smiled as he lifted Harry into a hug and kiss. “I have just heard about the Yule ball.”

“Me too.”

“Then you will not object if I take you as my date, no?” Krum smirked.

“Of course not Viktor,” Harry smiled. “In fact, I was actually going to ask you… and give you something else.”

“Oh? And what is it my little lynx?” Viktor chuckled.

“Well… why don’t you just follow me?” Harry purred, all thoughts of Draco swept from his mind as he took Viktor’s hand and started to pull him down the empty corridor. Without thinking he smiled lewdly and purred, “Come on Logan, I know a way to make you happy.”


	21. Lost Innocence

Chapter 21

Lost Innocence

The Yule Ball was upon them. Harry was in the Slytherin Common Room, dressed in his dress robes. They were sleek, a dark emerald color fit for the heir of Slytherin and Voldemort with decorative snakes that looked as if they danced and swayed across the robes. The robes were open, revealing a button-down black shirt and pants with a dark-emerald tie that matched his robes perfectly. He was looking around anxiously. The other Slytherins were all dressed, Pansy was in an obnoxious pink dress and pestering Draco, who was in handsome silver robes with a high color that made him look like a vicar or vampire.

Harry stepped to help Draco, but after checking his watch, saw that he should go outside for Viktor. His Bulgarian Prince was waiting for him right outside the stone entrance, dressed in formal Bulgarian dress robes and furs. “Harry, you are looking pretty, my beautiful boy.”

“Thank you Viktor, you’re looking very handsome,” Harry smiled.

“Thank you, Harry,” Viktor chuckled. “How was your Christmas? I am sorry I could not give you a present, little boy.”

“Don’t worry about it Viktor, just being with you is enough,” Harry smiled. “Besides, my Daddy and Sirius got me enough presents!”

“What did they get you?” Viktor chuckled as the two began walking through the dungeons towards the stairs to the entrance hall. Harry spent their walk gushing on the presents he got from his friends and family, particularly a pair of jeans and box of chocolates that were his size with a long, long letter of apology from Logan.

The entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around, waiting for eight o’clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. Harry and Viktor were escorted to a small area where the other champions were waiting. Fleur Delacour, looking stunning in robes of silver-gray satin, was accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Roger Davis, while Cedric was with Cho. They were called by Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. The other students went in first, leaving the champions and their dates to one side so they could enter separately.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Harry concentrated on not tripping over his feet; Viktor looked to be extremely pleased with himself as he escorted his small Slytherin towards the top table. Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions reached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an incredibly disapproving look as Viktor and Harry drew nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students’ and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely.

The champions seated, Harry looked around at their tables. There was no food on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked around—there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked cheerfully down at his own menus, then said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!”

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too.

“I must say, this is all very nice,” Viktor said to Harry, getting the boy’s attention. “But Durmstrang looks so much better. It is not as big, and not as comfortable as Hogwarts. We have four floors, and the fires are lit for only magical purposes. But we have grounds larger even than these—though in winter, we have very little daylight, so we are not enjoying them. But in summer, we are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains—”

“Now, now, Viktor!” Karkaroff said with a forced laugh that did not reach his cold eyes, “don’t go giving away anything else, now, or your friend will know exactly where to find us!”

“You do not need to worry about that, Professor Karkaroff,” Harry said, looking at the ex-Death Eater, “I know exactly where Durmstrang is located. My father told me, he knew about it for a long time.” Harry smiled politely at Professor Karkaroff while Dumbledore eyed the two suspiciously.

“Is that so, boy?” Karkaroff asked, his yellow eyes looking down at Harry.

“Yes, it is,” Harry smiled. “You would be surprised at how much my father knows…” Karkaroff looked as though he was about to say something, but Viktor just laughed, and took all of Harry’s attention from the man. Huffing, Karkaroff looked away.

When all the food has been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, then he conjured a raised platform into existence, along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were on it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that were artfully ripped. They struck up a slow, mournful tune as Harry and Viktor along with the other two champions and their partners began to dance. The staff and other students slowly joined them. Harry looked around the room as Viktor twirled him: he could see that, while everyone was dancing, Draco was sitting by himself looking sour.

Harry felt bad and wanted to go see what Draco was doing, but Viktor insisted that the two kept dancing, and Harry couldn’t exactly say no when he was wrapped by the older boy’s muscles. He felt safe, relaxed, and had a strange growing need to get closer to them.

Setting his mind to the idea, he debated to himself if it was worth it, if he was ready for it. A need grew in him as he and Viktor danced, it was as if their bodies were forming into one, closer and closer they pressed themselves, even as the tempo increased the distance between them only closed till all that separated them were the fabrics of their clothes. Harry couldn’t recall who started it later, but soon their lips were on each other’s as they danced. Hands touching possessively, provocatively, until sweat started to shine off their foreheads, and their breaths turned hot.

Lips burning with desire, Harry looked up at Viktor. “I need you,” he whispered. That was all the Bulgarian needed to hear. The two took flight, running away from the Great Hall, through the entrance hall, and out into the Christmas night. It was a cloudless night, the moonlight shining down on the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts as Viktor and Harry made their way to the Durmstrang ship. Viktor was holding Harry in his arms, the small teen kissing and worshiping every body piece he could reach before claiming Viktor’s lips for his own. For some reason, they tasted chocolatey.

Viktor’s cabin was below deck and minimalistic, only his bed and his broom were in it. Taking off their clothes, Harry was able to see Krum in his full glory. Strong, muscular, he reminded Harry so much of Logan, who he still missed dearly. They came together, Viktor taking lead, he taught Harry everything, told the Slytherin how to handle him. Their bodies pushed against each other, they were the only source of heat in the cold cabin, the boat filling with their breathy moans. Viktor removed Harry’s glasses gently and then took his mouth in his own. He tasted so much like Logan, yet he was still Viktor. Harry’s eyes became glossy with desire. He mewled and begged for more. When Viktor entered, Harry screamed and, in his mind, saw a flash of Logan over him. It was Logan entering him as Viktor did, Logan moving gently as Viktor gave Harry time to adjust to the surprising size. Viktor leaned down and kissed Harry’s ears, kissed his nose, his cheeks, before devouring his mouth. A thick hand grabbed Harry’s chest and started kneading the flesh, chuckling and commenting on how “soft and squeezable it is.” In Harry’s lust-full minds, he did not know who said it. As it was two boys on top of him, two boys inside him, two boys making love with him, though Harry knew that in reality there was only Viktor.

Yet Logan was still there. Logan was mimicking Viktor’s actions, Logan was kissing Harry the way the boy wished he would, Logan was whispering in Harry’s ear as Viktor whispered, saying things that Harry wished to hear as well as things he was too ashamed to like.

When the pace increased, the two boys began to merge. It was both Logan’s and Viktor’s hand who touched him, both Logan and Viktor who was inside him, Harry could not blend reality from his fantasies. Yet, he loved it, he loved the way Viktor felt inside him, how Viktor touched him, commanded him, yet he wanted, needed, Logan and his personality, his smell, his everything. Harry hated himself as he found himself extremely aroused, slapping away Viktor’s hand when the Bulgarian moved to touch Harry’s intimate spot. Harry did not know what was going on, who he was, or what he wanted. All he knew was that he loved what was happening, but he hated himself.

Viktor finished with a roar that more suited a bear than a human, filling Harry just as Logan filled Harry in his fantasies. And Viktor broke Harry’s mind. He leaned down gently, still sheathed in Harry, and whispered, his voice full of nothing but devotion, “I love you Harry Riddle.”

Harry felt like a monster. He looked up at Viktor and, for a moment, saw Logan before the muggle disappeared before him, revealing a gentle smile on Viktor that Harry has never seen before. He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. He felt horrible for everything that he has done, everything that he is. “I…I need to go,” Harry said, and gathering his clothes and glasses, ran off.

He stumbled in the snow as he hurried to dress himself before the tears finally fell. Viktor was chasing him, but Harry was able to lose him in the darkness. He made it to the entrance hall, he could hear the Yule Ball still going strong just beyond those two great wooden doors, but found that he couldn’t open them. He didn’t want to go through them, he did not want to see anybody. He was a monster. He deserved no one. Crying heavily now, Harry deeper into the dungeons, unaware that he was being followed.

“Harry!”

Harry collapsed against the stone wall just outside the Slytherin common room. He looked up to see the blurry image of Draco.

“Harry, what happened? Why are you crying?” Draco asked.

“I’m a monster,” Harry said in a low, depressed sounding voice. “A heartless monster…”

“Harry, what are you talking about?” Draco asked.

Harry could feel his friend sit down next to him. He felt his glasses gently slip off his nose, and Draco’s dress robes dabbed against his wet cheeks and eyes. “Harry, did something happened? Did Krum do something to you?”

Harry winced at Viktor’s name. His tears renewing, he shook his head and latched onto Draco. Draco was stunned for a moment before wrapping his arms around his friend. “It’s ok, cry it out,” he shushed, “tell me what happened Harry, I hate seeing you sad.”

“I happened,” Harry said after some time. “I’m an awful, heartless, terrible person! I don’t deserve anyone!”

“Harry!”

“It’s true!”

“What happened?”

“I did!” Harry sobbed. “I did… I broke up with Logan, and used Viktor as a stand in.” Harry shuttered as he sobbed violently, the actions of his crimes catching up with him. He felt miserable, as though he did not deserve to be anywhere.

“What?” Draco whispered, “I don’t understand, using Krum as a stand in? What do you mean?”

“The—the only reason, the only reason I dated Viktor,” Harry cried, “is to still be with Logan. They looked so much alike, and… and Viktor liked me for me. He wasn’t trying to make me into a girl… he wasn’t afraid to kiss me. I knew I was doing something wrong, but I still did it. I led Viktor on, I lied to him, used him… for emotional and sexual needs. I’ve fooled both of us into thinking that we love each other. I spent every time I could with him, I kept telling myself I am with Viktor, but sometimes I think of Logan… I’m such a horrible, disgusting monster, I don’t deserve anything but loneliness!

“Tonight…tonight Viktor and I finally…. We’ve done it, had sex, and… I loved it. I loved how it felt, I love what he can do, how he just hit my right spots… I didn’t need to touch myself once and—and he told me he loved me. Viktor looked at me and says that he loves me and…all the time I just kept blurring him and Logan. I’ve heard both of them…. I ran away.”

Looking emotionless, Harry gave out a long, defeated sigh. Looking absolutely pitiful, Harry frowned and said, “I’m so fucked up.”

“No you’re not,” Draco said.

“But this is all my fault, you can’t deny that Draco,” Harry sniffled.

Draco was silent for a few moments, contemplating his words carefully. Harry just cried to fill the silent void, wishing he could disappear into it. After a few moments, Draco’s voice, which was calm and soothing, broke it.

“This might be your fault… but, you are not a monster. You’re just a teenage boy. You’re not supposed to know exactly how to react or who you want… your head is messed up because you’ve had such an awful break up… and went into a relationship with Viktor so soon afterwards. They both were your first everything, it’s only natural that you mess up. Don’t call yourself a monster, don’t think that you’re worthless, because you’re not Harry. You’re far from it.” Draco hesitated, as if gathering some unknown strength, and said, “I like you Harry. I care for you so much that it hurts seeing you like this. I want to do everything I can to help you. If it’s listen to you, helping you murk through your confusion… and even if it is just to hold your hand. I will do everything I can to help you Harry.”

Harry sniffled once again and rubbed his sleeve against his eyes, trying his best to dry out the tears. “Thank you, Draco,… for everything,” Harry whispered. “I don’t know what I have done to deserve you…”

“It’s I who don’t deserve you, Harry,” Draco said softly. “Here…” He returned Harry’s glasses gently on his nose and smiled, “Looking better…”

“Can you stay with me? At least for tonight?” Harry asked. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course, Harry,” Draco smiled. “Come on, the common room should be empty.” He helped Harry to his feet and the younger Slytherin leaned on him as the two went inside. As Draco said, the common room was empty, so they curled against each other on a loveseat and Draco started the fire with his wand.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry asked softly, gazing into the fire. “Why weren’t you dancing? I saw you sitting by yourself while everyone else was up.”

“I came by myself,” Draco said, “for you. Parkinson heard that I did not have a date and tried to nag me into being hers, but I went there for you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to make sure that you were happy,” Draco said simply. Harry gave a soft noise but smiled to himself, curling tighter around the blond. They sat there together in a comfortable silence, staring at the fire and enjoying each other’s presence.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco asked after some time has passed. The fire was starting to die down. “How do you feel? About Logan… and Krum?”

“I…I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “I’ve known Logan for so long, and he has changed so much between now and the summer. He… sent me a letter, apologizing for all that he has done. He told me that he spent every minute thinking about us, about our feelings… and our outbursts. He seems more confident now in who he is… including the fact that he likes boys and girls. He wants to talk with me during the next break.”

“And will you?” Draco asked softly.

“I want to… I miss my friend,” Harry frowned.

“Hmm…” Draco hummed. He looked from the dying fire to Harry. Harry looked tired, both physically and emotionally. His eyes were bagged, deep lines carved in his forehead and there was a sense of loneliness that stuck to him. “I think you should,” Draco said softly. “Meet him, I mean. I’ll be the first to admit that he seemed like a good friend. Muggle or no. You talk about him damn too much.”

Harry gave a sad chuckle and looked up at Draco, “Huh, thanks,” he said.

“And the chocolate was good too,” Draco added.

“They are,” Harry nodded. Both boys looked towards the dying fire. Harry casually took out his wand and flicked it at the fireplace, muttering the fire-making spell. It burned to life again and the two boys continued to stare at it, alone in their own little world.

The rest of the Slytherins started to come back from the Yule Ball. They were sleepy but kept a jovial air around them as they talked about the fun they had. Their noise did not bother Harry and Draco as they just stared at the fireplace, content to be quiet. There were some who tried to get their attention. Blaise Zabini sat down next to them and tried to talk, but that only lasted a couple of minutes before he gave up, deciding to instead go to bed.

The two fourth years stayed there well after midnight where they were the only two left in the room. Draco thought that Harry must have fallen asleep at some point but was surprised when Harry spoke up. “I should break up with Viktor. It’s not fair to him… to stay in a relationship with me.”

“If that is what you want, then I will support you Harry,” Draco said.

“Just be there when I cry, that’s all I ask,” Harry whispered.

“Of course,” Draco nodded. “Come on, you need sleep.” Harry just muttered an agreement and leaned on Draco again as they made their way to the fourth-year boy’s dormitory.

 

Harry tried breaking up with Krum first thing in the morning, but he couldn’t. Viktor showered him in apologizes for going to fast and saying that he loved Harry that it stomped away Harry’s voice. The boy just nodded and muttered “It’s okay,” before the Bulgarian kissed his cheek. Time went on like this, Harry losing the will to break up with Viktor, and hating himself in the evenings. They had to spend less time together as Krum had to focus all of his attention to the upcoming second task on February 24th.

Harry made up his mind, he was going to talk to Krum after the Second Task. It was hurting his heart too much to lead the poor boy on so much. However, on the day of the Second Task, Harry was awoken early by Professor Snape.

“Come with me,” Snape snarled before leaving the dorms. Confused, Harry dressed and followed his Head of House out of the Slytherin Common Rooms. Snape led Harry from the dungeons into the entrance hall, and a small room by the side of the hall. Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, and Professor Karkaroff in the room, along with Cho Chang and a girl with familiar silver-like hair. “Harry, so sorry for the early call,” Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry. “Thank you, Severus, that will be all.”

Snape just gave Harry a look as he turned to leave. “I’m sorry Professor,” Harry said, “but why am I here?”

“Ahh yes, I was just about to get into that,” Professor Dumbledore said. “You three are going to be part of the second task. Now, you all remember the golden egg that each of the three champions received? Well in the egg was a riddle that can only be heard underwater. It goes:

“‘ _Come seek us where our voices sound/We cannot sing about the ground/And while you’re searching, ponder this:/We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss/An hour long you have to look/And to recover what we took/But pass an hour—the prospect’s black/Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.’_

“A clever little riddle if I do say so myself,” Dumbledore chuckled a little, “what it means, essentially, is that the champions have an hour to search the Black Lake for what they will sorely miss, meaning, you three. Now, do not worry, you will not be harmed in the slightest. Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and myself will put you three into a sort of enchanted sleep that will protect you underwater. Now, Mr. Riddle, Ms. Cho, do you remember what exactly is rumored to live in our lake?”

Harry thought for a moment, “There’s the Giant Squid,” Cho Chang said.

“Yes that,” Professor Dumbledore chuckled, “but there are some more beings who calls our lake home. Mr. Riddle?”

Harry thought some more, “I heard rumors of merfolk living in our lake,” he said. Dumbledore smiled and said, “That is exactly it, Harry!”

“The chieftain of our colony, Merchieftainess Murcus has consented with us to hold you three as sort of hostages until your champion comes to save you,” Dumbledore continued. “Do not worry, however, if your champion fails to rescue you for whatever reason, you three shall safely be escorted back to the surface by the merpeople themselves, where the charm shall be broken. Of course, it would be easier for all of us if the champions did rescue you all, it would look better too,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Now, I will give you all a moment’s time to empty your pockets of anything you wish not to become wet, or drift away in the water.”

Harry ruffled through his pockets, finding nothing. He looked around to see Madame Maxime talking swiftly with the silver-haired girl in a quick French. When the two were done, Dumbledore smiled at three and took out his wand, “And now for a long sleep,” he said, “The next time you wake up, it will be during the Second Task.”

He began moving his wand and mutter to himself. Harry instantly found himself growing heavy. His eyelids fought to stay open and the next thing he knew, he found himself falling as he fell asleep.

 

Cheers woke him up. He was very cold and very, very wet. Gasping for air, Harry was assaulted by a blinding light as he looked around. He was drenched, in the middle of the Black Lake, and in Viktor’s arms. “Daddy has you,” Viktor smiled as he helped Harry to the lake’s edge where a crowd of people were cheering in the stands, the judges sitting in their golden table at the edge of the lake. Madam Pomfrey rushed to the two as Viktor helped Harry out of the water. Harry saw that they were the last to arrive. Cedric and Cho were sitting together, wrapped in thick blankets, while Fleur Delacour looked devastated in hers, she was fighting Madame Maxime to get back into the water. When she saw Viktor and Harry, she screamed, rushing to them. “ _Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ‘urt? Where is she?”_ she screamed. _“Why ‘aven’t you save ‘er too!”_

“Not my hostage,” Viktor said rather coldly. Fleur looked as though she was about to scream when behind Harry the merfolk appeared, carrying the little girl named Gabrielle after them. Fleur rushed to meet them as Madam Pomfrey gave Viktor and Harry heavy, warm towels to wrap themselves in.

“I am so happy to see you’re not hurt, little boy,” Viktor smiled. “I was worried when I did not see you this morning.”

“Yeah…” Harry sighed. He looked up at Viktor, “We need to talk.”

“Of course, I am yours after the scoring my love,” Viktor said gently. Harry flinched and looked down, not wanting Viktor to see him sad. He stayed in his seat, staring at his waterlogged shoes. He and Viktor waited until everyone has left. When they were forced to move, Viktor wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and walked the two around the grounds.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Harry said. “I don’t love you. You shouldn’t talk to me anymore. I’ve used you this entire time. I’m sorry.”

“Harry—”

“Goodbye Viktor… I’m sorry,” Harry said. He began to walk away but Viktor grabbed his hand.

“Why? Why are you doing this Harry? Tell me,” Krum demanded.

“Viktor please!” Harry said, tears filling his eyes. “I’m sorry! I—I don’t love you!”

“But I love you!” Viktor cried out. Harry turned to see Krum crying, tears falling down his masculine face. “I love you Harry, more than I have loved anyone.”

“There will be other people,” Harry said. “I’m a monster. I’ve used you to replace Logan. Please, don’t make this hurt more than it does.”

“But it is hurting me Harry, it is hurting me so much,” Viktor cried out. “I love you Harry…”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. He yanked his hand out of Viktor’s arm, a bug falling off it, and ran away.  Viktor fell to his knees in anguish and cried, sounding like a mournful animal who has lost the love of his life.

Eyes full of tears, Harry ran away looking for Draco. He found the Slytherin walking towards the Great Hall for lunch. Wordlessly, the two looked for a quiet place where Harry cried his heart out as Draco held him.

 

“I heard you are writing an article about my son,” Mr. Riddle said. He was in the Daily Prophet’s main building, standing in the office of Rita Skeeter.

“Ahh Mr. Riddle,” she smiled, “I hoped to catch you. How would you like to add your opinion as a concerned parent? Do you believe that Victor Rum was using your son for his own sexually exotic needs?”

“My only concern, Miss Skeeter, is that your story does not reach the print… or else,” Mr. Riddle challenged.

“Or what, Mr. Riddle?”

“You know my connections Miss Skeeter, it would not be wise to mess with me,” Mr. Riddle said. He looked around at the office and saw the manuscript of the article about Harry, the headline reading _“BULGARIAN CHAMPION USES ROMANCE TO CHEAT: HARRY POTTER’S HEART BROKEN!”_ along with several self-writing quills. “May I ask why you have so many self-writing quills?”

“Why, it is because I get so invested in my interviews and documentations that I tend to forget important details,” Skeeter said. “They are a must in the journalism field.”

“I see,” Mr. Riddle said, and without waiting he whipped out his wand and pressed it against the manuscript, which instantly caught on fire. “Pray that I do not see you penning another article about my son, or else the paper will not be the only thing to burn.” And with his warning hanging in the air, Mr. Riddle left, feeling accomplished about himself.

“Was that really necessary?” Sirius asked just outside the office.

“Yes.”

“Well at least put that thing away! I don’t want you setting something on fire during dinner,” Sirius said.

“Funny,” Mr. Riddle chuckled, “you were very happy about my wand last night.”

“You are despicable Tom,” Sirius huffed. “Can’t believe that I’m with the bloody Dark Lord.”

Mr. Riddle just laughed and wrapped an arm around Sirius, “At least Harry will be happy.”

“Hmm… now can we hurry up? The reservation is for six.”

 

The Triwizard Tournament was over. Cedric has won. Ever since their breakup, Viktor walked around listlessly, as though his heart was sucked out of him. Harry felt guilty but knew that it was for the best for both of them. They did not talk, during meals Viktor made it a point to avoid Harry at all costs, even going to the opposite end of the Slytherin table. But none of that mattered as Harry watched Cedric Diggory take the Triwizard Cup and prize total of one thousand galleons. He clapped along with the rest of the Hogwarts students and felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to Draco and shared a smile with him. The blond held out his hand and Harry looked at it. Hesitating, he laid his hand on Draco’s their fingers intertwined.

Draco lifted their hands and looked at Harry, wordlessly asking for permission. Harry nodded, and Draco lightly pressed his lips against Harry’s hand. “That is all I will do, until you’re ready,” Draco whispered. “Even if it takes ten years.”

Harry smiled and raised their hands again, this time kissing Draco’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.


End file.
